Streets of Grey
by TriggerHappyWorld
Summary: Bobby Donovan Goren is back and undercover with the FBI.  Alex is undercover with Vice but finds herself in the middle of a mob war; unbeknown to the both of them is a web of lies, secrets, and deceit.  This is an AU story! A/J, B/C *On Hiatus*
1. Out of the Rain

A/N: This is a remake, or as I said before, an Alternate Universe of the Alternate Universe I created in the story 'Another Day in Paradise'. You do not have to read that to read this, but go ahead if you want. This story unravels completely differently than that story. Some characters are the same, many are different. And, oh, yeah, Joe Dutton is still alive!

Rating: T (M for selected chapters)

Warnings: AU of an AU, language, adult situations and themes, adults consenting to doing very adult things, violence, murder, mayhem, confusion and all the usual.

Pairings: A/J, B/C…wait, what? Not B/A, are you serious?…I'm serious. I gave myself a B/A break. (I'm saving all the B/A-ness for my follow up to 'Forgive Us'.) Plus, I never ventured down B/C before because they were both profilers and cops and yeah, no. But with this story, well…you'll see.

Summary: Bobby Donovan is back, but not in the way you remember him. Alex is still undercover with Vice but finds herself in the middle of a mob war and unbeknown to the both of them is a web of lies, secrets and deceit.

Hope you all enjoy!

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><p>She felt the first trickle of rain drops splash up from the pavement onto her feet, her legs that were barely covered by the fishnet stockings, and groaned. This couldn't be happening. Looking up toward the sky that was dominated by the tall buildings around her, Alex sighed as the rain started falling harder onto her face. Pulling the thin leather jacket around her slight frame tighter she cursed the weather before she cursed her boss for giving her this assignment.<p>

Tonight was supposed to have been her night off. She had plans with family until she had to cancel for the third time that month. Good thing it was late June, the rain actually felt good and it was exciting most of the men walking by. One man caught her attention as he glanced up from lighting a cigarette and didn't look away.

_That's right, creep, keep looking. Make my day and let me bust your ass for solicitation, slime-ball, _she thought with a flirty smile that drew eyes. And this guy was being drawn in as he continued watching her even after he put the lighter away. She took him in as his eyes took her in.

He was tall, really tall, about Joe's height…Six foot three, maybe four when he wasn't slouching? Dark hair, slightly graying, and his eyes were impossibly dark. A deep brown that made her squirm as if he could see into her very soul. Pushing that thought down, Alex looked for the tell-tell signs of the man being a drug user or dealer. There were no obvious, outer signs, but that didn't mean anything.

What she did notice was that he was hiding a gun in the back of his loose fitting blue jeans, under the long-sleeved button down green Army jacket that was over the black t-shirt. It was the kind of jacket anyone could pick up from any thrift store or salvation army, but she was almost certain it wasn't bought secondhand. Something about him spoke to her that he was a veteran; probably the dark haunted look that seemed permanate in his eyes even as he smiled, a bit shyly she would add, before ducking his head away.

Damn, maybe he was too shy of a guy to pick her up. Time to do a little encouraging act. She did have a job to do, no matter how demeaning it was to her, to any woman. Strolling up to the tall, shy smiling guy on the corner, Alex leaned against the light post and asked, "Can I get a smoke?"

Even as he pulled out the pack from his jacket pocket, the guy didn't take his eyes off hers. That deep focus, his staring, was unnerving. Handing her the cigarette she really didn't want, he flicked the lighter open, saying, "Your eyes, they're very…nice."

Giving him a 'what the hell' look, Alex asked, "See anything else you like?"

That caused a deep red of blush to heat his face as he looked away, toward the pavement, as he answered rather nervously, "I-I, uh…I don't see anything I _don't_ like."

_Yeah, real creep. _"Uh-huh, so you've got your pick of the litter."

He looked taken back by that as he glanced around, a hand going to the back of his neck. Rubbing at it, he lowered his voice slightly as he told her, "I wa-, was, uh, only talkin' about you. You're new." She stared up at him and he must have realized how that sounded before he quickly, and nervously, explained, "That's, uh, that's not…I mean, I, uh, I walk by here every day, and night, to and from work and it's just, I've, um…I've come to notice the regulars, you know…Not," he shook his head slightly as the red got deeper. "Not that kind of _knowing_, but…I work at-at a, uh, a club and a few waitress and dancers used to be out here…"

Alex caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and so did the man as he turned and smiled expectantly at the woman who approached them. She recognized her as a regular working girl on that corner. The name she went by on the street was Medea, like the Greek mythological character, and she was slightly taller than her, blond hair, brown eyes, and she had an accent she couldn't quite place. Out of all the pros on she had to come in contact with on the job, Medea was one of the most cooperative and supportive. She also watched her back and informed with about the regular customers, updated her on rumors circulating around the girls, and who had a rep for being, according to her, 'good guys' and 'bad guys'.

It seemed she knew the man very well as she eased up to him and actually leaned into his side; which he didn't object to as he gave her a sideways hug before letting her go. He pulled out the pack of cigarettes and gave one to her without prompting and lit it.

Medea winked at her before saying, "This guy here, he's one of the good guys. Smart, charming, _protective_," she said as she looked up at him with a look that cause him to laugh a little as his blush deepened. "A john was hassling me one night, and I thought he was going to start hitting me. As he raised his hand to actually do it, this guy showed up."

"What happened to the john?" she asked as she glanced up at the man the story was about.

Medea shrugged nonchalantly as she told her, "Two broken wrists."

Alex flinched a little but she couldn't help but be slightly impressed.

"Be nice to her, Bobby," Medea told the man before leaning into say something into his ear before giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek.

Bobby smiled slightly as he watched her walk away then he suddenly looked around like he was searching for something he lost. Looking up, he frowned slightly before looking back at her, "W-would uh, would you like to get out of the rain?"

Alex gapped at him slightly, stunned, as she took a moment to get her mind to catch up to what he had hastily told her and then that question. What was she supposed to say to that? It seemed that he didn't need that much encouragement as she thought. "Sure. What'd you have in mind?"

Looking her over again, Bobby said, "Well, um…It's, it's that…The thing is, I'm not asking you to have sex with me."

_O-kay, this guy is getting weirder by the second. Where's my backup?_ Looking around, she spotted another woman cop down the block and in the maroon mercury across the street was her partner, Stash Barium. "But you want me to leave with you? It's still gonna cost."

Shrugging, he told her with that shy smile again, "That won't be a problem. My, um, my apartment's this way."

And he was taking her to his apartment? That would be the first and her senses went on high alert as she gave him a friendly, sexy smile, hooked her arm in the one he offered, and started walking with him across the street. God, she hoped Stash was doing his fucking job and trying to figure who in the hell this creep was. If they tried to arrest Bobby now, he would be out in no time. He hadn't specifically solicited her, and no money had been exchanged yet. Plus, he did say that he wasn't paying her for sex. She was going to have to take her time with this guy.

With each step she took away from the block the more nervous she became but she couldn't let it show. He kept watching her, asking if she was okay, if she was cold, or if her feet hurt from the high-heels. His concern would have been sweet if she wasn't pretending to be a hooker and if he hadn't just picked her up off the corner.

Glancing down the street, she saw the maroon mercury coming toward them and then pass. It was Stash; he was letting her know that he was on it and that he wasn't leaving her alone with the guy. Bobby suddenly stopped and gestured to the apartment building. "Which floor?" she asked as she stomped on the barely smoked cigarette then started for the steps.

Slightly gripping her arm, he stopped her. Alex immediately froze, stiffened her muscles and prepared to kick his ass until he let her arm go as he stepped over to the iron gate. He opened it and stepped down, going to the basement apartment. _Oh. _Breathing out, but barely, she followed.

Bobby held out his hand for her to take as she stumbled slightly on the broken concrete steps. "You can take those off, if…You seem uncomfortable," he said before taking one last drag off his cigarette before putting it out with his shoes.

As Alex looked more closely, she saw that they weren't shoes but boots, steel-toed, and black. Looking into his sincere dark eyes, she smiled slightly. "I'm fine. The steps need fixing."

"Been on the super about those for years," he said while offering her his hand again as they walked down to the entrance under the stairs.

She looked up toward the street and saw her partners' car parking in front of the building. The door unlocked and was pushed open; gesturing for her to enter first, Alex hesitantly stepped forward into the apartment.

"Watch your step, there're two steps leading down from the door," he told her as he continued to hold the door open.

Keeping her awareness focused on him as she walked, she didn't notice the table until she hit it with her knee. "Oww! Son-of-a-bitch!"

"Are you okay?" Bobby asked as a light clicked on. It was from the lamp on the end table. "Here, sit down." He helped her to ease down on the couch. "Sorry, I should've...I wasn't thinking. My, uh, my coffee table's higher than most…Hate leaning over, hurts my back," he absently told her as he headed out of the room, to the kitchen. "I, uh…I didn't get a name?" he called from the other room.

She could see him through the space between the counter and the cabinets. Not wanting to give the creep her real name, Alex stuck with her undercover, hooker name, as she told him, "Lexus, Lexie…or Lex…Whatever you want to call me is fine."

"Lexus…That's like the car, right?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Yeah, right." Rubbing at the red tender skin on her knee, she took the time with him out of the room to take in her surroundings.

The basement apartment had been renovated and it actually looked decent. She could tell that the building had once been either townhouses or a brownstone; the building was made of brick and limestone and so were the walls. No drywall or plaster had been used, except for the ceiling, which held a fan that was spinning around above the middle of the room. In a corner was a fireplace but it looked rarely used; the mantle held a row of books and bookends, nothing else.

Hardwood covered the floors and oriental rugs were placed around the room. The entertainment center was new but there were hardly any DVD's or VCR tapes. What he did have plenty of were books, and there were at least three bookcases that she could see; all which were packed full, some even with books stacked on top of each other. The long couch she was sitting on, four seats, was a brown suede and quite comfortable as she found herself leaning back into the cushions and letting out a deep sigh. Directly across from the door was an overstuffed armchair the same color and made from the same material as the couch.

What the apartment, or at least the living room, lacked was personal affects. There were no photos of anything, not even scenery on the walls. No pictures of family, friends, or even himself. On the other end table, in the corner between the couch and the armchair, was a clock and phone. Two remotes were on the coffee table along with stacks of magazines all of which were of sports, cars or…_The Smithsonian? _

"Since I'm in here, would you like a drink?"

He glanced over at her as she dropped the magazine back onto the coffee table. "What'd ya got?" she asked, trying not to show her disappointment that not a single magazine held a mailing address or name.

After slipping off her heels, she stood and eased as quietly as she could around the room. If the guy decided to look over, he would see her walking around.

"Well, uh, I've got a lot. If you want wine, or a beer…scotch, but um, you don't have to drink. I can make coffee, or put water on for, uh…for some tea. I'm a fan of, uh, of Earl Grey. Water if you're dehydrated."

She would have laughed at his attempt at humor if she wasn't too busy trying to find evidence that he was a murderer, or rapist, drug dealer or a weird sexual freak as she visually searched around the room. Peering into the kitchen, she saw that he was too busy putting ice in a zip-lock bag to notice what she was doing. Huh, that ice must be for her knee.

Knowing she couldn't go too further into the apartment without him hearing her voice coming from down the hall instead of the living room, she cleared her throat and watched as he nearly dropped the ice as he whipped his head around. "Water's fine."

Eyeing her, he shifted his eyes down to her legs and she visibly flinched at his wandering eyes. Then he was approaching her and she tried to hide the tension in her body as he knelt down in front of her. If she wanted to drop kick him in-between his eyes it would have been so easy.

"I don't mean to make you nervous," he told her as he reached out to touch her. His touch was gentle, barely even there, but she nearly pulled away until she realized what he was doing. Lifting her leg up so it bent at the knee, he pulled a hand towel off the counter, wrapped the bag of ice in it, and then placed it on the sore spot that would be bruised by tomorrow. "I should have walked in first."

Her breath caught at the care he took with her but also the amount of honesty, and regret, his voice held. If this guy was a killer or rapist, he could have fooled her. "It might be easier if I sat. That way you won't be kneeling in front of me all night."

Bobby was blushing again as he let her leg go. Handing her the towel and bag of ice, he stood and ducked his head away again before moving back into the kitchen. "Why do I make you nervous?"

Alex didn't know how to answer that. She was supposed to be a woman who didn't mind physical contact, she was a fucking prostitute after all. "You have a gun."

She saw him still, hands flat on the counter, before he turned and eyed her. Tilting his head to one side, he smiled slightly, "You're very observant."

"Gotta be in my line of work. A lot of crazies out there," she justified herself as she rolled the bag on ice in her hand.

Reaching around his back, he very slowly removed the gun. She could tell it was a berretta 9mm. He reached up and placed it on top of the row of cabinets; with his height it was no problem. "I'll get that water for you. Ice, in a glass?"

She gave a nod while she watched as he pulled a clean glass from the cabinet the gun was sitting on top of, filled it with ice from the freezer, and then took out a jug of water from the refrigerator. It wasn't until he was handing her the glass that she said, "So, is your name really Bobby?"

The look of surprise crossed his face before he smiled slightly. "It's Robert, but, yeah, that's what people call me…friends, um-"

"Prostitutes," she dryly snarked when he hesitated. "What have you decided to call me?" she asked as she took a sip of the water. She knew it wasn't laced with anything, having watched him very closely as he made it.

Bobby stared down at her like she should have known the answer to that before saying, "Lexus, unless you really prefer Lexie…That sounds…"

"Intimate?" she offered up. "Guess that's not what tonight's all about, is it. So," she asked as she sat back down on the couch. "What are you paying me for, exactly?" Her cell phone was hidden in her jacket pocket and she hadn't heard it ring yet; that meant Stash still hadn't gotten anything on the guy yet.

Bobby leaned against the entrance to the kitchen as he told her, "I guess, a, uh, a place to stay. A place…out of the rain."

She didn't know what to think or say to that. _Is this guy for real?_ "What if I don't want to stay the whole night?"

He shrugged. "I'm not going to force you. I, uh,…I don't mind offering my place as…as somewhere people, um, women like uh, like you can…stay. There're no expectations here…" he seemed to stare off as he was talking, his mind drifting, and she frowned slightly at that. The guy was sending signals all over the place but she couldn't make heads or tails of any of them. "It's nice, you know, to have somewhere safe to go, I guess. A place where you don't have to fear being hurt…And, you know, I'll pay for my time so," he shrugged as he left it at that.

He didn't want her to get hurt? But, was Bobby a guy that would hurt her? Taking a bigger drink of the water, Alex sat it down and said a little too sternly, trying to gauge a reaction, "You pulled me away from my job to sit here all night? I've got things to do. Money to make, people to answer to." She went to stand and surprisingly enough, he didn't try to stop her, not with any form of violence anyway.

"Don't, please…"

Looking over at him as he gave that soft plea, she felt suddenly uncomfortable by what she saw in his eyes. It wasn't the look of a man ready to attack; instead, it was the deep longing of a man who didn't want to be alone. Alex froze at that look and was at a loss of what to say or do until she had a thought. "Bathroom; where is it?"

Bobby hesitated for a moment before gesturing down the hall. "First door on the right."

She went to walk by him when he reached out and stopped her with a hand on her arm. Stiffing at the contact, she went to pull away when he dropped his hand immediately at feeling her reaction.

Not looking the least bit apologetic, Bobby told her, "Leave your jacket." She went to protest when he cut her off. "I don't allow drug use in my home."

Staring up at him, Alex wanted to laugh at the absurdity of that seeing how she would never do a thing like that. "You think I'm going to '_powder_' my nose?"

Shrugging, he said, "I don't know what you're going to do, and since I can't exactly search you…Leave the jacket or you're not using my bathroom."

Just her luck that Stash chose that moment to call.

In the quiet apartment, Bobby heard it as well. Shifting against the wall, he asked, "Your, um…employer?"

"It's not common for customers to take us back to their own place. He's probably just worried."

"I understand," he said as he stepped away from the wall. "I'll give you some privacy." Bobby surprised her again by heading down the hallway.

For all she knew he was getting another gun, or a knife, or duct tape and rope. Calm it down, she told herself as she pulled the phone out and flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"Alex, are you okay?" Stash immediately asked.

"I'm fine actually."

"Is he in the room? Can you talk?"

Alex looked down the hall and saw that the bedroom door was shut when it had previously been wide open. "I can talk, he's in the bedroom."

"Christ."

"It's not like that. All we've done so far is talk." _And he put ice on my knee_…She wasn't about to tell Stash that. "So, who is he?"

Stash let out a sigh and told her, "A big problem. You, my dear, have walked into something that's bigger than just busting a john."

"What are you talking about?" Alex asked, getting more than a little frustrated.

"His name is Robert Donovan. Sound familiar?"

Her breath caught as the name registered. _Shit. _"Are you certain it's the same guy. This guy is…He doesn't strike me as the right hand man to the Don of the Italian Mafia." She kept her voice low as she kept her eye on the hallway and the door to the bedroom.

"I don't care what he strikes you as; he's a killer, Alex. A hit-man for the Vincennes family. We need to back off and regroup. I had to call it in and the Lieu told me to pull you out. For fuck's sake, Eames, if anything happens-"

"I hear you, Stash," she said as she glanced toward the door. "I saw you park outside. Give me at least ten."

"You've got five."

"Ten, and I'll buy you breakfast in the morning."

Stash was silent for a long moment before utter, "Dammit, why can't you be just like every other woman cop and run screaming from that apartment."

"For that remark you can buy your own breakfast. See you in ten," she told him before snapping the phone shut. Taking a moment to breathe, she called down the hall, "You can come out now."

The door didn't open immediately but when it did she held her breath as she looked him over, especially his hands. Even in the dark hallway she could tell that they were empty. Bobby had discarded his jacket and when he came into view she saw how built he really was.

Not only was Bobby tall but he was built like a fucking brick wall; all solid and muscle. On his arms she took in the signs of his once imprisonment. Tattoos colored both arms up and under the sleeves of his black t-shirt. She noticed a few were Army tattoos but the ones that weren't were either gang related or prison related, like the clock with no hands on the underside of his forearm.

"Your boss isn't too mad at you is he?" he suddenly asked as he stopped in the middle of the room, crossing his arms over his chest.

Shaking her head, she smiled slightly, "No, not too mad. When I told him that you didn't want sex, he told me to get the hell back to work. I owe him more than one pay a night."

Bobby took that in and gave a nod. Reaching around his back, she braced herself but then saw he had grabbed his wallet. Opening it, he asked, "How much you owe him?"

"I wasn't even with you for an hour, that's not even-"

"No," he said, cutting her off. "I mean…For him, how much do you owe."

Alex's jaw nearly dropped. Was he offering to pay her boss off for her? She didn't even have a boss to pay off! Shit, and she couldn't exactly take his money. "Really, Bobby, I appreciate it, I do, but…I have to earn my pay."

That seemed to shock him just as much as it shocked her. Stepping back, he shook his head but still pulled out enough bills to warrant a check of his sanity. Handing the money out to her, he said, "Take it, if you want to keep what I don't owe you, for, uh…for yourself, he won't know…right?"

She eyed the money and then him. If she declined that then it would be a sure give away. She might as well announce that she was a cop. Giving in, she took the money as she worked up some tears in her eyes. _Oh, yeah, that should work. _And it did as Bobby looked away with an uncomfortable frown on his face. For a criminal, and a supposed mob hit-man, the guy had a heart. At least a heart for prostitutes. Or was this just part of his game? Gain her trust so the next time they meet, he would get the jump on her when he strangles her, or stabs her in the chest with a knife.

The signals she had been feeling earlier made sense to her now. There wasn't something quite right with this man and it was no wonder he was mixed up in the life he was currently living. According to the reports, this guy was the most feared man in the Italian mob. He was even more feared than his boss, Michelangelo 'Mack' Vincennes. The nickname was a play on Vincennes' family and the fact that his mother was Irish and his father was Italian. The things she learned from Joe and his obsession with organized crime. She would have to ask him what he knew of Robert 'Bobby' Donovan.

Smiling to herself for not blowing her cover, she slipped her heels back on and started for the door. Bobby was immediately heading for it. Fearing he had changed his mind and was going to keep her there against her will, she was once again relieved when he opened it for her.

"Have a, uh, a good night," he softly told her as she walked by him. "Try to-to, uh, to keep…dry." His smile was a little awkward but so was his comment to her.

She actually would have found it rather cute if the thought of a psychopathic mobster killer flirting with her hadn't repulsed her. Bristling at the remark, and the fact that he was probably watching her walk up the steps onto the sidewalk, she tried not to pull out her gun and shoot him right then and back down the steps her suspicions were right, he was watching her with a light glint in his eyes.

_Fucking creep._ Why couldn't Stash just let her bust him? It would have at least gotten him off the street that night. Now that she was gone would he go out and try to get some other girl to come back to his place?

Looking back down, she stared at the closed door and the empty spot where he had stood. Sighing, she walked over to the awaiting car and got in. Stash didn't wait long before he pulled away from the curb and drove her back to the department.

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><p>Leaning his forehead against the door, he let out the breath that had been strangling his chest. In the quiet that followed her absence the voices that he had been able to keep at bay engulfed his head. All his thoughts spurred thunderously inside his mind, collided against his control, and filled his world. For a moment, in a small glimpse of his existence, he had felt calmer, stable…centered. She had helped, like they all helped to keep his mind focused on something outside of his own self.<p>

He was missing her already. _Lexus_…That wasn't her real name, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that she stilled his thoughts. That she allowed him to talk to her, look at her. That was all he needed and wanted.

It had helped, he repeated to himself, for a moment.

Pushing off the door, he grabbed her glass off the table, took it to the sink in the kitchen, and then pulled down the bottle of scotch from above the sink. He didn't bother with a glass as he sipped out of the bottle while skimming over the titles of his books. Finding one with a post-it note stuck in it for a bookmark, he took it along with the bottle to his bedroom. It wasn't the distraction he wanted or needed tonight but it would have to suffice. He wasn't in the mood to go out and get someone else.

It wasn't something that happened often but once in a while, about every few months, he yearned for someone to talk to. Someone not associated with his job, and especially someone who wouldn't ask him any questions about it or himself. If he tried to pick up an actual date, questions would be asked. Expectations would exist; they would want to talk about him with other people and he wasn't comfortable with the idea of that.

He could always lie of course, having done it before, but it caused too many problems. Picking up working girls was a problem as well. She could have been an undercover cop, or he could have been arrested anyway from being seen picking her up. She could have been a druggie and tried to run something by him. That wasn't even the most problematic thing about picking up a girl off the street. The thing was that since he refused to have sex with any of them, sometimes their bosses, their pimps, didn't like that, especially when they found out that he got a few of them off the street and off their payroll. He'd encountered a few who actually demanded that he keep away from their girls; that was until he informed them who it was they were threatening.

The name Robert Donovan could instill fear more quickly than a gun in their face. He never had to buy a woman out once they told him that they wanted to leave that life. All it took were a few words to whoever her boss was and she was out. Just like that. No one wanted to deal with him, no one wanted to confront him, and no one wanted to deny him anything he wanted.

It had been that way for eight years. Eight long years to the day. That was one of the reasons he needed to distract himself. Eight years ago on that exact day he had entered that world as Donovan. He had no idea then that he would be catapulted into a fucking legend.

Sitting on his bed, he tossed the book on the mattress, downed a gulp of the scotch, then held his aching head in his right hand as he tried to stop it from pounding. Nearly a decade spent in this life; gaining trusts, friendships, enemies…a lot of enemies, and with each passing year the more isolated he felt. The more distance he put between himself and his real life…

His real life. There were times when he forgot what that life actually was; if it had actually once existed. Friends and family, all faces forgotten, voices lost, connections broken. The most devastating part was that he lived in the same state, city, that most of them lived in as well, but he couldn't contact any of them. Only a phone call a day to his mother, and if it was an emergency only then could he visit.

Frank, his brother, had vanished completely until by chance they had accidentally run into each other on the street. Their exchange was brief yet as they talked the more he felt it. What they once had as kids was gone. They were brothers, but it had seemed as if in that moment to be nothing but a word. A description to call each other because it had felt like he was talking to a stranger.

He still loved his brother, or at least thought he did, but it felt as only out of obligation. It also didn't help that he knew Frank was high at the time. He could have overlooked that flaw in his brother if he wanted to. Yet, he couldn't. It had pissed him off, infuriated him, but he kept it to himself as he tried to be happy just being able to talk to Frank. To know that his brother was still alive. He wondered if Frank was happy to see him. If Frank cared to know that he was also still breathing.

_Eight years. _He couldn't get that out of his head. In all actuality, he was shocked he had lasted that long. With the job he had, it was practically a miracle. He even had a few scars to prove just how close he had come to losing his life since taking on the assignment. Shot three times in two years spanning from 1993 to 1995: one in his side that barely missed a lung, once in the shoulder from a ricochet, and once in the knee. He had to have reconstructive surgery and four bolts put in his leg. Running was hell sometimes and when it rained, like it had tonight, the pain was nearly intolerable.

None of that pain was compared to what he felt every day in his heart, in his soul, as he fell deeper and deeper into the chaotic world around him. All the lies, secrets, and the times when he had to take a life, all in the name of his job. It was enough to destroy a man. Or, to make a man go crazy.

Laying back on the bed, he stared at the ceiling as the room tilted and swirled around him. Resting his right foot on the floor, he steadied the spinning as he grabbed for his book. Clicking on the lamp light, he turned to the page he had left off and started reading. Less than thirty minutes later, he was asleep.

* * *

><p>Leaning back against her front door, she took a deep breath in as her eyes slid close. Tossing her purse across the room toward the couch, she heard it hit the cushions then land on the floor. Steadying her breathing, she headed into the kitchen. It had been a long night and she was in need of a drink.<p>

The rain was coming down harder, tapping against the window over the sink as she poured herself a glass of wine. Leaning against the counter while taking small sips she thought about what happened once Stash took her back to the department. Her Lieu didn't tell her a lot before sending her home for the rest of the night, but what she had been told, and from all the sudden tension spreading around the Vice squad when she left, her encounter with Robert Donovan that night had stirred up heat all the way around the entire NYPD.

Things were starting to happen and she knew it was big when Lieutenant Brantley woke up the Chief of D's. Brantley had sent her home after telling her to take a day tomorrow. That was worrying her; granted she was happy for the time off, but the circumstances which led to it were making her head ache and stomach churn.

As she was thinking about what it could all mean, she heard the lock on the front door click then the creak of the door opening. They really needed to get that fixed, she smirked to herself as she saw her husband, hair and face wet from the rain, appear in the archway. A look of surprise crossed his face as he saw her standing there before he walked up to her.

Sliding his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him, he asked, "Hey, babe, what're you doing home so early?"

Kissing his lips, she sighed as she pulled away. "The Lieu sent me home early and gave me tomorrow off. I guess he realized how hard I've been working."

"I'd say, three canceled dates in a month, but who am I to complain? When I'm undercover my track record's worse than yours." Joe leaned down and captured her lips in another, deeper, kiss. After extracting a moan from her, he chuckled and pulled away. "That the new bottle of wine?"

Alex nodded as she took a heftier drink, nearly emptying it. She refilled her glass as Joe grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"No work for you tomorrow, huh? Wanna get drunk and fool around?" he asked before taking a sip of the beer.

"What're you, a mind reader?" she said as she moved up against him, feeling his warmth engulf her.

Joe smiled down at her as he slid his hand down to her ass, lifting the skirt she had on up so he could caress the inside of her thigh. "Hum, have I told you that I love it when you wear a skirt?"

Alex chuckled a little as she moved away, making her husband groan in frustration. "Actually, before we lose ourselves in drunken passion, I want to ask you something?"

Joe raised his eyebrows and took a sip of the beer. "Work related?"

Alex shrugged as she leaned against counter and sipped the wine. Not wanting to tell him about her run in with Donovan, she said instead, "There was talk going around the squad about a mob guy, Robert Donovan. Something's going on and I knew that if anyone could tell me about him, it's you."

His eyes lit up as he looked pleased and excited as he said, "The guy's a real whack-job, completely heartless. He's a stone-cold killer, Alex."

She thought about that as she remembered the way Bobby had treated her just hours before. There was no hint of that stone-cold evil her husband was describing to her. It wasn't that she doubted him, but that she was confused with the man they were talking about. Bobby Donovan could have very well been heartless; the gentle, sweet yet weird guy who picked up hookers could have been just a façade.

"The story goes," Joe was saying, "or legend, as it were, that Robert was born in Brooklyn to an Italian family. Now you're thinking: but the last name Donovan's Irish."

She smiled because he was right. The last name didn't fit the family history.

Joe downed half the beer before he continued, "His family was real nuts. His father left, abandoned them and his mother was insane. I mean, she was literally insane. Schizophrenic, I think. He has a brother, but they aren't close. Hell, I actually busted his brother a few times. Frank Goren."

"Goren? So he changed his last name?" she asked as she added the name Robert Goren to her list of people to lookup once back at work. Maybe the guy was even on the internet.

"Sure, after he was adopted by the Donovan family when he was fourteen." Joe went to the table and sat down. Looking up at her, he explained, "See, Robert took off when he was a teenager and who could blame the guy with the family he had. He fell in with a gang of kids, a Brooklyn gang, and started getting into trouble which eventually led to his arrests for fighting, stealing cars, you know, just a lot of it was typical teenage bullshit. It was just that every time he got arrested he was always with this other kid, Mickey Donovan who was the leader of the gang. Turned out, Mickey's pops was Patrick 'Paddy' Donovan; you might have heard of him."

She thought of the name as she moved to the table and sat across from him. Then she remembered. "We read about him at the academy. He was a loan shark for the Irish mob in the '70's. When the Westies were still going strong in Hell's Kitchen. Coonan and 'Eddie the Butcher' and all those guys, right?"

Joe smiled as he started to peel off the label from the bottle. "I love it when you do that; it let's me know that you actually listen to me."

Alex laughed at her husband. "So, I'm guessing Paddy was the one who got Robert into the business."

"That's to be assumed, but no one knows for sure if Robert had already been doing stuff for the Donovan's or the Irish mob since he was running with Mickey all that time before then. Anyway, after that, Robert stopped getting arrested and got an education. Him and Mickey went to school together and they both graduated high school; Robert was older than Mickey by a year but hadn't been to school since he ran away from home when he was thirteen, but he ended up graduating a year earlier than Mickey if you can believe it; real smart guy. After graduating, Mickey went to college but Robert continued working until he was nineteen, and that's when he joined the Army."

Bobby was a veteran, she had been right. Alex took another sip of the wine before asking, "How did a guy who was taken in by an Irish family, who worked for the Irish mob, end up working for Vincennes."

Joe was practically bursting as he continued with the tale, "Because like I told you, Vincennes is half-Irish. Once everything settled from the mob wars in the seventies and eighties, Vincennes came out on his own as the head of the Italian mob by way of forming an alliance with the Irish. There's some family relation between the Connolly's who now runs the Irish mob and the Vincennes family. And when Robert returned from serving his country, just like Michael Corleone in 'The Godfather', he went right back to work. Only this time, it was with Vincennes. The Connolly's already had, and still have, their feared hit-man in Joey 'The Ripper' Sullivan. Plus, Vincennes asked for Robert personally, said something like he was born an Italian so he should work for an Italian."

The more she was learning about the families, the history, and who Donovan was, the more she was starting to know why the entire NYPD was on edge. What this could mean for her since she accidentally entered Bobby Donovan's world. Alex finished her glass then got up to refilling it. "So, what's folklore and what's real?"

Joe shrugged as he told her, "A lot can be proven, like the arrest records and his military service. He's been under surveillance by us a few times, and I'm sure by a lot of different departments all the up to the FBI. I heard some stories about what Robert's done to enemies of the Vincennes family. Brutal, crazy stuff he learned in the Army and maybe even thoughts he had created in his own twisted head. Like I said, he's a whacko. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he was also crazy like his mother."

Alex realized that it could be true seeing how he had seemed like a completely different person than from this brutal hit-man tale Joe was telling her. If the guy was insane, even schizophrenic like his mother, it might explain that shift in character. She had no idea since she didn't know much to anything about mental illnesses. Curious, she asked, "I know he goes by 'Bobby', but does he have one of those mob nicknames?"

Joe laughed as he got up from the table and grabbed another beer bottle out of the refrigerator. "Yeah, and seeing how the man personifies death, most just call him 'The Devil'. Bobby 'the Devil' Donovan. It doesn't help that he always wears black." Moving over to her, he looked down at her as he said, "Like I said, he's a killer. That's all he does; it's who he is. I heard that he hasn't just murdered men, but also women…It doesn't matter."

Alex bristled at that as her anger and hatred with Robert Donovan grew inside of her. "How come no one has arrested him yet."

"That's like asking why the mob's still in existence. This guy's really smart, and he's really good at what he does. Proof is hard to find, and you can't arrest someone and lock them up based on stories. Informants come and go, and believe me when it comes to trying to get anyone to rat on Robert, you might as well be asking a dead man. The PD got close once, but before they could get anything substantial the guy, John, was never seen from again. No body, no nothing. Word is Robert dismembered him then burned the parts of his body that he didn't send out to other informants as a warning. An informant I came across claims that he has John's dick in a jar under his kitchen sink."

"That's disgusting."

Joe groaned. "Tell me about it. I nearly lost my lunch when he told me the whole story. That was just the overview. Anyway, if it's true, I doubt the parts that were saved and given out could be used to I.D. who the guy was. No fingers, or teeth, and it was also said that he drained the body of blood. It doesn't matter if when got skin scrapings or DNA because the only thing we have of John to identify him are his fingerprints and dental records."

Alex gave a nod as she took all this new information in and then shook her head. She was done with taking about Robert Donovan for the night. Downing half her glass, she wrapped her arm around Joe's waist and pulled her closer to her.

He seemed to get the idea as he said, "Enough about Donovan…I've missed you."

Smiling up at him, she pulled him down for a kiss then took his hand and led him out of the kitchen. Joe wrapped her in his arms as he sat on the couch, bringing her down into his lap as he kissed her neck. While he played with her hair and drank the beer, she played with the hem of his shirt and drank her wine. Running her fingers above the waistband of his jeans, she heard his breath hitch as he shifted under her. Downing her second glass, she put it down before turning her full attention to her husbands' body.

She knew he loved having his abdomen caressed, kissed, licked, it didn't matter. It turned him on faster than almost anything. Her fingers slid over his skin and the groan she heard rumble deep within his chest excited her as she kissed over his neck, up to his jaw-line, and then over to his soft lips. Shifting against him, to straddle his legs, she felt how hard he was as she pressed down into him.

When her fingers skimmed over a long thick line of scar tissue, she involuntarily stiffened, like she always did.

His hand grabbed hers, bringing it away from his stomach and up to his lips. Joe kissed her palm then said, "Alex, babe, it's been two years. I'm fine."

She knew that, but every time she felt the scar from where he had been shot, she couldn't help but react to it. She remembered all too well the sounds of the monitors, the sound of the respirator keeping him breathing, and the total devastation in knowing that he might not wake up from the coma he had slipped into. The scar was a constant reminder to how close she had come to losing him. "I know, its just I can't help but to remember how close you were-"

Joe sat his empty beer bottle down then pulled her into a hug. Whispering in her ear, he told her, "But I didn't. I'm alive and I'm here. I love you, and I'm not planning on putting you through that ever again."

She wanted to believe that; to accept it as the truth and to never doubt it, but they had been close once and they were both still cops. Every day was another day to live but also another chance to be killed. It was the nature of the beast.

She let him hold her for a long time as they caressed each other while softly, and slowly, kissing. Then, having enough of the gentleness, she kissed him hard and deep before slipping off his lap. Pulling him with her, she led him down the hall to the bedroom where she screamed out her love for him over and over before collapsing into a deeply sated sleep.

TBC...


	2. Ladies and Gentlemen, Bobby Donovan

A/N: In the other story 'ADiP' I had it placed in the Bronx, however, with this story I changed its location to Brooklyn because I wanted to explore those neighborhoods.

Don't hate, enjoy.

* * *

><p>Even though he had fallen asleep peacefully, he didn't stay that way. He'd woken several times through the night in fits of confusion and pain. His dreams, dark and troubling, kept him from sleeping more than twenty or thirty minutes at a time. It had been cool in the room with the window closed and air blowing through the vents but he had broken out in a sweat. He had grown so uncomfortable that he actually got up and took a shower before he could lay back down.<p>

He had changed the damp sheets and turned the fan on before climbing back into bed dressed only in boxers. That had been around four in the morning; it was now after nine and he hadn't been back to sleep. Instead, he had laid awake all morning thinking.

Through all the thoughts that swirled around his aching head, he couldn't help but think of the night before and woman in his apartment. He wondered if she was okay and if the money he had given her helped or not. The people he worked with tried a few times to talk him out of helping those women. Yeah, doing that on a daily basis wasn't the smartest thing he's ever done, and there've been times when he got picked up by the police, but he felt he had to do something. When he helped them, he was helping himself…It was a win-win when he got it right and the woman he was trying to help got off the street for good.

Deciding it was time to actually get out of bed, he sat up on the edge of the mattress and rubbed at his pounding head and tired eyes. There was some light coming through the blinds but not much. His bedroom was in the back of the apartment, facing the 'backyard' behind the buildings. It wasn't actually a yard because there was no grass, just fenced in cement slabs to park your car.

Groaning into his hands, he stifled a yawn before standing and going over to the dresser. He slid on a pair of basketball shorts then left the bedroom for the bathroom.

He was just about to lather on shaving cream when he heard a knock on the front door. Hardly anyone showed up at his place during the day, and those who did were never anyone he wanted to see. Quickly washing his hands, he went into the kitchen and grabbed his gun off the top of the cabinet. Then, instead of going to the door, he grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the TV. What came up wasn't a television channel but the view bird's eye view of outside his front door.

At seeing who was knocking, he became concerned but no longer alarmed. Tucking the gun into the back of his shorts, he went to the door and unlocked it. He leaned against the frame, right arm over his head, as he opened the door to reveal the woman standing there looking incredibly pissed off. Unlike last night, her hair was no longer blond as she let her natural dark-brown hair hang loosely over her shoulders. The dark hair matched perfectly with her brown eyes and Italian complexion.

She looked him over, seeing how he wasn't wearing anything but a pair of shorts that hung past his knees, then cleared her throat. When she spoke, that put-on foreign accent was gone and instead what came through was her street-tough New Yorker attitude. "Well, you can take the convict out of prison but not the prison out of the convict. I didn't take you for a Syracuse fan."

He didn't know much about the woman, but from talking to her he knew she was born and bred in Brooklyn.

Bobby smirked but didn't move to let her in. "I'm not, but my brother went there. He played for 'em."

"Which one, Frank or Mickey?"

Shrugging, he told her, "Does it matter? And what're you doing here anyway, _Medea_, aren't you going to blow your cover? I mean, you don't even look like a hooker anymore…surprisingly."

"Don't make me shoot you, because I will."

"I have no doubt in that."

"And don't call me Medea. That's solely for the street. I'm here on official business, jackass, so move already," she bit out as she shoved pass him, making him stumble off the top step as she charged into this apartment. "Got any coffee made yet?"

He pushed the door close and locked it as he told her, "My apologies, Agent Barek," he half-heartily told her. "I just woke up, but go ahead and help yourself. Coffee's in the cabinet above the stove."

She shot him a look before rolling her eyes and going into the kitchen to make the coffee. Bobby went back into the bathroom and took his time shaving. As he was finishing up, Barek appeared in the doorway and looked him over again. It was slightly unnerving but he figured she had a fascination with tattoos or something.

"I like that one," she said, pointing to his left side.

Bobby stared at her for a moment before raising his left arm and looking down at his side. Tattooed down his ribcage to his hip was a gun. Part of the barrel was hidden by the waistband of his shorts, like it was tucked in like his real gun, but what was shown was the important part of the tattoo. Bounded to the handle of the gun was the image of a man, hands tied, mouth gagged, with his eyes the only thing able to move. Coming off the handle, and what had bound the man to the weapon, was a single wing that went the rest of the length up his side to just under his arm.

"The detail is impressive, definitely not a prison tat. When'd you get it?"

Not answering, he flicked the light off and walked by her to kitchen. Barek followed close behind.

"Do you regret any of them?"

Bobby shrugged a little as he went to get himself a cup of coffee while she sat at the small table against the wall. "Only one," he finally answered.

He could give her the silent treatment all day but honestly, he felt like talking. He felt like maybe making some sort of connection to another human being who wasn't a criminal.

Sitting down across from her at the table, he reached out his right arm and turned it over. "This one," he pointed to the tattoo of the clock with no hands.

"Of course you do, it's an indicator that you've done time in prison."

Bobby nodded slightly. "It's not only that but it's so…dull. I'm going to make something else out of it. Something I'm proud of."

Barek smiled something that looked genuine and nice as she said, "You do tattoos?"

He couldn't help but smile back. "While I was locked up, another inmate taught me. He was a tattoo artist but couldn't lay off the drugs. Ruined his life for a eight-ball a day habit."

"Nothing like you then, huh?"

Bobby looked over at the undercover FBI agent as he told her, "Read my record. I've never done drugs, never sold them, and never bought them."

She sat back and searched his eyes before saying, "I did read your record. Agent Norton made sure I did."

"How is Steve?" Bobby asked as he sipped on the coffee and got more comfortable with her in his kitchen.

"Better," she answered. "He can't return to full duty yet. So he's doing all the bureaucratic work that no one else wants to do."

Nodding at that, he felt a little better knowing Steve was still out there working on this. Steve Norton was the only agent he trusted and when he had to stop being his contact last month due to an injury, he nearly threw in the towel out of pure fear. Barek was proving to be a suitable replacement, even though this was their first talk off the clock, so to speak. The only time he had ever talked or made contact with her has been either on the street or on the phone. That was why he was confused with her showing up at his apartment.

Which brought him around to asking again, "So, why're you here?"

Barek hesitated for a fraction of a second; it was that hesitation that sent him on high alert and made him tense up. She immediately read him, telling him, "Calm down, it's not anything bad. Word came down this morning that we're pulling more people in."

Bobby thought about that in the time it took her to regroup and decide on what to tell him. "You mean more people undercover?"

She gave a nod. "A joint task force is the best way to put it. There will be an undercover from OCCB, Narcotics, and Vice."

Not seeing the problem, he asked, "Okay, so why the hesitation?"

"The thing is I can't inform you on who these people are. I can't even tell you when or if they are already working it or not."

"So, you're telling me that there'll be three undercover officers out there, working with me or against me, and I'm not going to know who? Isn't that dangerous? I could kill one of them and not know it."

Barek sighed and leaned over the table as she told him, "It's not like we haven't already been doing this. Over eight years, how many undercover cops have you ran across? And how many of those have you gotten out of the situation and saved? All of them, because you inform us what's going on and who's all involved and we tell you if any of them are one of us or not. There's nothing different except now we're putting them in place instead of them just showing up. We're controlling who's in this and who's not."

Feeling his irritation coming back, he snapped, "Why the fuck didn't you do that eight years ago then? Maybe this thing would've been over with by now."

She narrowed her eyes at him and he knew she wanted to tell him off, but she breathed out and shook her head. "Are you that desperate for a new life in witness protection?"

Bobby eyed the table as she said that. _Right. _He always seemed to forget about that part of the deal. The last thing he wanted to do was go off to some new city with a new name and a fake past in the pretense of living happily ever after. He would rather take his chances on the streets of Brooklyn than do that.

He really needed to talk to Steve. Downing the rest of the coffee, he got up for a refill.

"Do you mind, since you're up?" Barek asked as she held her cup up for him to take.

Taking the cup after a brief hesitation, he gave her a small smile. "You're right."

"About what?"

As he refilled their cups, he told her, "I'm in no hurry to go anywhere. In fact, I wouldn't mind doing this forever."

"Well, it's not like you wouldn't have been doing this anyway."

Handing her the cup then sitting down, he corrected himself, "I didn't mean working for Vincennes. That's not who I am. It used to be, but…I haven't been that guy for a very long time. The only reason I'm in this now is because I had no choice."

Barek looked surprised by that as she studied him again. "Then you're talking about working undercover for the FBI."

He shrugged, saying, "For anyone if...if it's for the greater good of society, than yeah." At seeing her expression unwavering, he added, "Don't look so surprised. Beyond popular belief, I'm not all bad. I do have a conscious...Just ask Steve."

"I don't need to, I know you saved his life. We all know that. It's one of the reasons the bureau's been lenient with you all these years, that and you get results."

"Yeah, but do you think I did it for him...or for myself?" He could tell she either didn't know how to answer that, or she was unsure of his reaction to her answer. After taking a big gulp of the coffee, Bobby sat the cup down as he leaned on the table, getting fractionally in her personal space. "I know what you're thinking. You're wondering if you can trust me, or if I'm just in this for myself…because you're right. I mean, I am a convict, but after eight years of working for the FBI, and not once betrayed you...It has to tell you something other than here's a guy trying to save his own ass."

"But you did agree to do this to save your own ass," she reminded him.

"Hey, I'm not saying it isn't a motivator, but there've been times where I've gone above-and-beyond what I've been asked or told to do, like saving Steve's life. I could've died too, but I took that chance to save him."

Barek finally relaxed a little as she seemed to accept that he was someone she could eventually trust. He wasn't expecting any promises, but Steve trusted him for a reason and so to him that should be enough for Barek to trust him as well. "Why haven't you dealt out of this already? There are only so many ways this can end for you. I'm sure the bureau would understand if you couldn't handle it anymore. Eight years is a long time."

Bobby rolled his cup in his hands as he gave a nod, telling her, "I had a chance, uh…five years ago. It was after I got shot. Steve, he uh…he came to me with a deal. I could've taken it, got a-a, uh, lesser sentence, uh, five years, serve two."

Barek raised her eyes in surprise, saying incredibly, "You had the chance to only do two years and then disappear? You would've been out by now, gone. Why-"

"Why didn't I take it and move to Idaho?" he said, cutting her off. "Other than I didn't want to? Look, as long as I'm doing this, I know I'm making a difference…I'm helping. My life has meaning, you know, a, uh…a purpose. Fixing car engines in Boise doesn't give me a purpose."

She was quiet for a long moment, then asked, "What the hell's in Idaho anyway?"

Bobby smiled slightly, and answered with a shrug, "I don't know...Potato chip factories?"

Barek got up and her cup to the sink. As she passed by him to leave the kitchen, she said, "Okay, I gotta say that for a convict, you're a decent guy with a conscious. Maybe I can trust you, one day."

Bobby smiled as he said, "Fair enough. Oh, and Barek," he called after her as she headed for the front door. When she turned to face him, he said, "If you want one…I'll be happy to do it, free of charge." At seeing the confusion on her face, he explained, "A tattoo."

She gave him a smirk and shook her head. "I don't think so," she said as she walked to the door and left.

* * *

><p>They called her in on her day off; what a surprise. What made it worse was that she had a massive headache from drinking too much wine last night. Joe had already gone to work by the time she rolled out of bed and took a nice long hot bath for once. She had been in the middle of relaxing on the couch in nothing but a pair of sweats and tank-top, cup of coffee in one hand, remote in the other with her wet hair pulled up into a loose ponytail, and no intentions of doing anything except watching mindless TV. Then she got that fucking phone call.<p>

Alex huffed out a breath of air as she entered the busy lobby of the 65th Precinct and stalked her way up the flight of stairs to the fourth floor. The 6-5's Vice Squad worked all of the surrounding neighborhoods of Southwest Brooklyn, from Bay Ridge to Gravesend, and on south to Coney Island. It also just so happened that those neighborhoods were territory belonging to Mack Vincennes. Sure, a couple of other precincts worked those neighborhoods as well, but none of them held a Vice Squad unit.

Subsequently, the fourth floor of the 6-5 was home to twenty-some detectives whose main job was to work those neighborhoods. That amounted to a lot of streets, clubs, bars, houses, and individual entrepreneurs thinking they could score some quick cash with their own sleaze business. It didn't surprise her really, only built her frustration, to get that call on her first 'volun-told' day off in weeks. What did surprise her was the fact that she was being pulled into a meeting with one other person besides her Lieu.

She didn't know who the guy was, but he was already in the office when she was let in by Lieutenant Brantley. The man's suit was tailor made and expensive, shoes shined and buffed, and he had a visitors badge clipped to the breast pocket. At his feet, leaning up against the chair he stood up from, was a black leather briefcase. The man reeked FBI.

A few seconds later she was proven right.

"Detective Eames," Brantley told her, "this is FBI Agent Steven Norton."

"It's Steve," Agent Norton corrected. "You can call me Steve." When he said that, he was looking right at her.

Alex wanted to roll her eyes but instead she only smiled and nodded slightly before saying, "And you can call me Eames, or Detective, or both put together, Agent Norton." That got the reaction she was hoping for as she watched as Norton blushed and gave a slight nod.

Brantley shook his head and sighed while sitting back in his chair. "Okay, now that the introductions are over with, we can get down to business." He gestured for the FBI agent to take over.

Turning to her, Norton gave her an easy smile as he told her, "First off, I'm with the Organized Crime Unit of the FBI and the reason we're here is to conduct a joint operation with the NYPD. We're to place several officers undercover from the NYPD along with several of our own field agents, and working together we are to infiltrate various mob organizations and gangs around New York. We already have field agents in place and undercover officers from Narcotics and OCCB. We have yet to get anyone from Vice…that was until your name came up in a big way."

Alex stiffened as she took all that in and gave a nod. "You're talking about what happened last night," she stated as she looked from Norton to Brantley.

Norton gave a nod as he got her attention again. "Yes, exactly. When the FBI got word that you were taken in by Donovan, that he was talking to you, we immediately contacted your Lieutenant, your Captain, and asked about you."

"We couldn't agree more that you'll be the best one to put under for this operation, Eames," Brantley told her with a look of pride on his face.

Alex didn't know what to think of that look, other than she knew she had the confidence and the support from the brass. She had to admit, it felt good. "What would I have to do? Is my partner going to be in on this as well?"

"No," Brantley said as he sat forward, resting his arms on the desk. "Stash will be partnered with someone else while you go undercover."

Norton picked up from there as he informed her, "Your contact will be one of our agents. In fact, you'll be rooming with her at the decoy apartment we're setting you up in."

Alex sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. _Just great. _"I can hear my husband now," she muttered to herself as she thought about the idea of living in a decoy apartment.

Then she saw the look on Norton's face and froze in anticipation as what he was about to say. "Speaking of that, we're asking you not to tell him the particulars of this operation."

"You want me to lie to him?"

"No, you can tell him that you're going undercover but not about who you're working for, who's all involved, and you are not to mention anything to him about Donovan."

Alex sat back in the chair as she thought that over. She had never once kept anything like this from her husband. Yeah, she didn't tell him everything but she told him enough to where he wouldn't be worried. She always told him what the plan was and who she would be with, and he always did the same. It was always just in case. Especially since two years ago when he was nearly killed while working undercover. They told each other that there would be no more secrets.

"If you can't do it, we can find someone else," she heard Norton tell her.

Releasing a deep breath, she shook her head. _Damn. _"There won't be a need. I'll do it."

Norton nearly beamed at her as he said, "Great. Okay. I need to brief you, if…"

Brantley got up as he told them, "There's an empty interview room you can use; Eames will show you."

"Do I still answer to you?" she asked her Lieu as she went to stand.

"Only if you need too. Eames," Brantley told her, "from now until this is over with, you don't report here for work. You don't contact me unless it's a dire emergency; all this is confidential and need-to-know basis only."

Alex hesitated as she felt a sense of fear grip her gut. She had never been undercover like this before. All contact with the NYPD, her partner, the brass was to be severed. This was going deep, but despite her fear she was also excited. If she did this and they succeeded, she could only imagine what it would do for her career…Not like that really mattered. She didn't take the job to get noticed, but if it helped to move her up the chain to where she really wanted to be, Major Case, then she would take it.

Giving a nod, she said, "All right. Agent Norton," she said as she started out of the office, "follow me."

She led him to the empty interview room that was down the hall. It was small and stuffy with no windows but it was adequate. There was a table in the middle with four chairs around it, file cabinets on one wall and on the other was a white board.

The door was shut, and locked by Norton while she sat down at the table. He put the briefcase on the table and popped it open. It was filled with file folders and notebooks, a camera, and a tape recorder. Getting only three of the files out, he shut the case before addressing her.

"This is going to be very quick. Here," he said as he handed her one of the folders. "That's yours to keep. After you read it, and collect all the necessary paperwork inside of it, put it somewhere for safe keeping."

She went to ask what he meant by that when he held up his hand, cutting her off. The man was rigid, but he did look in a hurry…especially after he checked his watch. It was a Rolex.

Norton opened one file folder as he said, "Okay, first off, I'm going to give you a run down of Donovan and the family he works for."

"I know the basics of Donovan already. His upbringing, the Donovan's, both Paddy and Mickey, and then his military service. After that…" she shrugged.

The agent stilled for a moment then smiled slightly. "Of course. I should've known you would've done your own research."

"Well, all I did was ask my husband. He's a mafia buff."

Norton just nodded as he sorted through some photos. Taking a marker in hand, he turned to the white board and wrote as he spoke. "I'm sure you know that there are five Italian mob families."

"The Five Families: Giaccone, Masucci, Bianchi, De Luca, and Carpino," she stated and was surprised that she actually remembered how to pronounce them all. "I'm not sure which one Vincennes is boss of."

"The Giaccone family," Norton told her. "Now, each family has an hierarchical structure to it. The boss, aka the Don, the Godfather, whatever you want to call the guy, he's in charge. So that's Mack Vincennes," he said as he placed Mack's picture up on the board under the word 'Boss'. Norton continued to do that with each member of the hierarchy. "Now," he continued, "the boss always has a consigliere, which is his 'right-hand man'."

With that, Norton placed Donovan's photo on the board right next to Mack's. "Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Bobby Donovan."

Alex looked at the actual mug shot of Bobby and inwardly cringed. She couldn't believe that the man she met last night was a harden criminal. The right-hand man to the Don. The Consigliere. "What's his job," she asked as she looked away from the photo.

Norton must have seen her look as he gave her a weary smile, but he didn't say anything about it as he dove into the job description. "He's an advisor, mediator, negotiator for the family. If Mack's not able to attend a meeting, Donovan stands in his place. You get the job by being the only one in the world the boss can trust whole-heartily with everything. The job used to belong to Ralph Vincennes, Mack's other older brother."

"And what happened to Ralph?"

"We don't know," Norton told her. "His body has yet to be found. The important thing is, instead of turning to his other brother, Demarco Vincennes, who is also the underboss by-the-way, Mack turned to Bobby Donovan to take Ralph's place."

Alex raised her eyes at that, saying, "I bet brother Demarco was none too happy about that decision."

Norton just shrugged. "Yeah, but with being the underboss," he continued on, "Demarco is heir to the throne if something were to ever happen to Mack. But, what I think is that if something were to happen, Bobby Donovan would take over as the head of the family. He has more loyalty from the family than Demarco could ever have. Hell, Demarco can't even buy himself loyalty. Anyway, Demarco's main job is to oversee the financials and make sure all the money is going where its supposed to be going."

As Alex thought about that, Norton continued on.

"This is where it starts to branch out and get tricky. Below the underboss, there are Caporegimes. A caporgime, or capo for short, is a person in charge of a crew, which consists of about ten to twenty soldiers depending. Now, Mack has territory all around New York, places in Flordia, Nevada, even in Milwaukee. However, our main focus is here in New York and the three boroughs of the Bronx, Manhattan, and here in Brooklyn. For each borough, there's a capo running a crew of soldiers. You have Al Bracco in the Bronx, Samuel 'Sonny' Orlando in Manhattan," Norton explained as he put the other two men's photos up on the board under Demarco's picture. "And Brooklyn's capo is none-other-than…Bobby Donovan," he said while tapping Bobby's picture.

"I thought Donovan had the other job?"

"I told you it got tricky," Norton smiled a little as he leaned over the table. It seemed he was enjoying his presentation. "Okay, here's Donovan's history. He started off eight years ago as an associate. Took him only a year to work his way up to being a soldier, which is the lowest made man on the totem pole. After two more years, he's a capo. The best crew boss in the family and also the number one guy to go to if they needed a hit done properly. So, Donovan at this point has two jobs: capo and Vincennes trusted hit-man. Over the course of the next four years, he becomes the most powerful, most respected, and most feared man in the family besides Mack Vincennes himself. Like I said, when Mack goes, Bobby's next in line for sure. Then a year ago, Ralph gets himself mixed up in drugs and during a cocaine induced rage, kills a soldier for the Bianchi family. That's a big no-no. The Italians have this rule about not being allowed to kill another made man unless it's approved first by the head of that family. Less than an hour after the killing, Ralph disappears off the face of the planet never to be heard from again. The very next day, Bobby Donovan has three jobs: capo, hit-man, and consigliere. He is one busy boy."

Alex shook her head as she looked over the photos on the board; her focus always returning to Bobby Donovan's mug shot as she processed everything that has been told to her. Finally, she asked, "And my role in all this?"

Norton tapped the file folder laying in front of her on the desk. "It's all in there. I don't even know some of the details. It's for your eyes only." He then reached into his suit pocket. "Here's my card," he said as he pulled it out and handed it to her. "My cell number and email in case you have to get a hold of me, but the number you really need is on the back."

Looking at the cell phone number on the back, Alex realized that this was it. Once she made that phone call her life would drastically change for however long it took to complete this undercover operation. She would be cut off from the NYPD, her husband, even her family.

It wasn't until she was out of the department, sitting in her car, that she pulled out her cell and flipped it open.

* * *

><p>Hours later, after having gone home to pack a bag and call up Joe to tell him not to be expecting her home for a while, she was standing on 3rd Avenue near the corner of 93rd Street in Bay Ridge staring up at the apartment building that would become her new home. Looking around the block, she took in the unisex barber shop, the health foods store, the pharmacy, the Chinese restaurant, the 24-hour laundry, the coffee shop and diner, the bodegas that advertised gourmet groceries, and the discount store across from the hardware store on the corners and sighed.<p>

It wasn't unlike any other neighborhood in the borough but it wasn't home. Up in that apartment wasn't Joe waiting on her but another cop or FBI agent living undercover. Steadying her nerves, she used the key that had been in a small envelope along with her new address, and unlocked the lobby door. At least it was locked. The lock on her lobby door had been broken so many times that the super was putting a chain on the door and issuing out mountain climbing gloves for the residents to use to scale the fire escape.

Okay, that wasn't true, but he was going to extremes in trying to keep people from breaking the lock off the door again.

Entering the lobby, she saw the role of mailboxes and spotted her apartment number. She didn't have a key to it yet but it wasn't like she was expecting any kind of mail either. The building had a smell that she couldn't place, but she wondered if there had once been a poultry shop next door. Or was someone running their own poultry shop out of their apartment. This was New York and she wouldn't be surprised to hear chickens clucking around the hallways during the night.

It was a walkup, no elevator, and she was glad she only brought one suitcase and even gladder that it had wheels. Going up four flights lugging that would have only pissed her off even more. At each landing to a new floor, she would open the stairwell door and peer out into the hallway. On the third floor she saw a couple of kids running around the hall with toy guns shooting at one another. There were four of them in all and only one was playing 'cop' while the other three were 'robbers'. The cop didn't make it; his friends that were the robbers got the jump on him and used his own toy handcuffs to cuff him and then they took his gun. Poor kid.

Getting to the fourth floor, she huffed out a breath as she pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway. Taking in the number and letter on the doors, she headed toward apartment 4F. It was on the other side of the building, facing out into the back lots and alleyways behind the buildings. It was the last apartment, by the south stairwell, and she could have cursed herself for not taking that stairwell instead.

She didn't know if her roommate would be home or not, but she decided to knock first. After three knocks, she went to use her key when the bolt turned and the door opened to reveal a very familiar face.

At seeing the shock on her face, the woman smiled at her and opened the door a little more to let her in. "I didn't know it was going to be you. Come in."

Alex rolled her suitcase into the apartment as she said, "I can't believe it. You had me convinced you were a pro." Not wanting to call her by her street name, knowing that it wasn't her real name, she asked, "Can we use each other's real names or-"

"Of course we can," she told her as she closed and locked the door. "We're on the same team." Approaching her, she held out her hand, "Carolyn Barek, FBI."

Alex shook her hand as she introduced herself, "Alex Eames, Vice. I like your natural hair by the way, that wig looked horrible."

Carolyn gave a laugh as she headed toward the kitchen. "I know it! I protested for hours over having to wear it but it helped to preserve my identity. Want anything to drink?"

"That'll be great. I think I dehydrated myself on the climb up."

"The bureau thought at this would be better suited for a hookers salary and lifestyle. I mean, we couldn't exactly get a room at the Ritz. I got beer."

Alex leaned against the entryway, saying, "And I got a hand for it to go in." Taking the offered bottle, she took a sip as she looked around the small kitchen. It had the necessities: refrigerator, stove, microwave, and working faucets and running water.

Carolyn gestured around. "What you see is what you get. Living room, kitchen, something the constitutes as a dining area," she said as she pointed to an area by the window where a two seated table sat. "Two bedrooms, one bath…sorry, looks like we'll be fighting over bathroom time."

Shrugging, Alex explained, "I'm four of five kids. I know all about managing bathroom time."

"Wow, five kids huh? I was the only child."

"Lucky you," Alex snarked as she stopped in front of what appeared to be her bedroom.

"All the furniture is new. They just delivered it this morning and set everything up for you. We can go shopping to get you a bed set and comforter if you want?"

She had the basics, a bare bed, dresser, night table, and an empty closet with no hangers. "I'm going to need hangers."

"Yeah," Carolyn said with a chuckle. "They always forget to supply hangers, making you go out to get your own. Have you had lunch yet?"

Shaking her head, she said, "I barely had time to think about food since this morning."

"I was about to go across the street and pickup some Chinese."

Leaving her suitcase in the middle of the room, Alex smiled at her and started for the door. "Sounds great. I could go for some teriyaki beef and fried rice. Then afterwards, we can go in search of bed sheets and hangers."

TBC…


	3. Whatever Gets You Through the Day

A/N: Thank you for reading and keep up the reviews!

Warning: M rating for vulgar language, but it's only for one part of a scene. I think it'll be obvious which part of the scene when you get to it, so feel free to skip it if that kind of language offends you!

Enjoy.

* * *

><p>His first stop of the day was always the vendor on the corner of 85th and Ridge Blvd. He got a cup of coffee and a fat envelope full of payment for the week or sometimes the whole month. It wasn't money from the vendor, but from the local business along the block. Taking out a few hundreds, he paid the man and kept moving.<p>

Taking a glance at his watch, he saw that he was running late. Personally, he blamed Agent Barek for disrupting his morning.

Second stop had him checking on five members of his crew who always had breakfast at the diner along 3rd between 85th and 86th Street. The moment he walked in, he saw the three Ricci brothers: Vinni, Jonny, and Mike Sr. sitting in a booth, drinking coffee, and bickering like brothers over sports.

Billy Byrnes was on the payphone near the restrooms in the back, probably talking to either Jeff or Sal about horse races like he did every morning. The fifth man, Frank Santoro, was relaxing alone in a booth reading the morning paper.

He knew they had all worked until the early morning hours because he had given them an assignment for last night. All five men only gave him a passing glance as he came into the diner and took a seat across from Santoro.

The waitress, Olivia, brought him a glass of water and the menu but he didn't look at it as he ordered his usual: omelet with a side of bacon and toast along with a glass of orange juice. He already had his cup of coffee from the vendor and it was still full.

"How'd everything go?"

Santoro folded the paper neatly, along the creases, and straightened it to his right on the table before addressing him. The guy had a bad case of OCD but it served the crew well because he was so rigid he noticed little things, details, that the others didn't. Some saw the condition as a weakness, Bobby saw it as a gift. "Smooth," he told him as used two napkins to adjust the menu Olivia forgot to take. "We weren't detected and we got good pictures."

Bobby watched silently until Santoro seemed satisfied that everything was in order. He found the man fascinating on so many levels that often times he found himself just watching Santoro's behavior. When he actually talked to the guy, he found himself talking about everything other than work. He liked the way Santoro's mind worked because he realized that it wasn't far from how his own mind worked. That got him wondering on many occasions if he held OCD tendencies as well.

"I don't like people touching my things…I had a woman over last night, and I saw her messing around with my magazines on the coffee table. It, uh…I had a hard time keeping myself from walking in there and putting them back the way they were. Or, from taking them away so she couldn't touch them."

Santoro smiled a little as he readjusted his tie for the sixth time since he sat down across from him. "Sounds like me, but I don't restrain myself. I can't, it's impulsive. I can't help it."

"After she left I fixed them because I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"You're more obsessive than compulsive than, I think, but you still give in to the compulsion but only when it's okay to do it. You have more control over your actions. I wish I had that level of control."

"You envy me?" Bobby asked as his food was placed in front of him and he had to look away from the smile Olivia gave him. He shifted in his seat as he felt slightly embarrassed but entirely uncomfortable with the fact that the woman liked him.

Santoro, being the always observant one, said after Olivia left, "Why're you intimidated by women?"

Bobby hesitated as he reached for the salt and pepper. Without looking at the man that he was in charge of, boss of, he told him, "That's none of your business, now is it?"

They were both quiet for a while until Santoro asked, "What else do you do?"

Understanding exactly what the man was asking him, he answered, "Uh, well…I'm constantly checking on things, like locks, uh, the time, if uh, if I set something to be recorded I have to check it like five times to make sure it's set right, but I still worry that it's not set right when I'm gone."

"Have you ever gone back home to check?"

"No, but I've been tempted a few times."

"See, I would've gone home and checked, but yeah, you've got issues, boss man."

Smiling a little, Bobby chuckled as he took a bite of the omelet. "You have no idea."

After eating and playing catch-up, he left the diner and headed further south, crossing over 86th street and past the corner where he had met Lexus the night before. He looked but didn't see her out that early. Only a handful of women worked the corner at eleven in the morning. The junkies who were always in desperate need of their next fix were the only ones walking loosely, like rag-dolls, along that sidewalk.

He bristled when one of the hookers, Janiel, headed his way and he quickly darted out into the street to avoid her advances. Every morning it was the same routine unless he was early getting to the club.

"Ya fuckin' asshole," she yelled at him, like she did every time he avoided her. "Ya talk ta ev'rybody but me! Wha' the madder, I ain't sexy enough fah ya?"

Bobby really wished she would stop yelling and making a scene, but what could he do? A cab nearly clipped him as he walked between the traffic and parked cars. Some asshole double-parked ten feet ahead of him and the light down the street turned green, sending a mass of cars and delivery trucks his way.

"Yea, I know 'bout ya Mista Donovan!" the woman kept yelling at him as she followed him along the sidewalk. "Bad ass gansta!"

"Hey, shut the fuck up already, Janiel. You're scaring all your money away," Bobby finally yelled back.

His patience with the hooker was slipping. The thing was, way back, years ago, he had tried to help her out but she was too far gone there was no helping her. Her life had become about heroin, and recently meth, that nothing else mattered. She was one of the many that he couldn't save.

"Whad'ya know 'bout it? Ya don' do anythang but talk, like ya 'fraid of a woman's pussy!"

Bobby looked around the street; it was obvious she was being heard all over the block.

"Or maybe ya don' like women ta suck ya off. That's it, ain't it! Hey, ev'rybody, he don' like women! He a cocksuckah!"

He turned around, stepped right up to the hooker that spat those words out for the whole entire neighborhood to hear, and resisted the urge to smack her. It wasn't that it was true, or that he was even offended by the idea, but it was because was a capo for the mafia and everyone on the street knew it and had a reputation to defend. No man, especially a man like him, would stand for that attack on his manhood.

In his whole life, he had never called a woman what he was about to call her but he had to do it, especially with everyone and their brother listening, watching, and waiting. "Listen to me you fucking bitch," he snapped, "don't you ever disrespect me like that again."

"Whad'ya gonna?" she yelled back as she shoved him and he that was when he lost it.

Grabbing her up by the neck he shoved her into a brick wall and fought all his instincts to not do anything worse as he spoke softly, and calmly to her, "You don't want to know what I'll do. Now, stay the fuck away from me." Letting her go, she stumbled to her feet and that was when he realized he'd picked her up off the ground like she weighed nothing, because she didn't.

The amount of shame and disgust that filled him as he walked away made his stomach twist and it was all he could do to keep from throwing up.

The club he worked at was only five blocks away but he couldn't wait that long to wash his hands from where he had grabbed the woman around her neck. He ducked into the bar on the corner and headed straight to the men's room where he scrubbed at his hands until they felt raw.

* * *

><p>"Wow, he finally lost it on her. It's about time really, Janiel is a serious pain in the ass."<p>

Alex looked over at Carolyn as they sat in a car a four blocks from the club Donovan worked at. "He just assaulted her."

"And we're not going to do a damn thing about it. I know it goes against everything you've been trained to do as a cop, but as of right now your main objective is to become Bobby's friend, and busting him for assault isn't exactly going to win him over. Besides, Janiel will never press charges against him. The reason she's so pissed that he doesn't give her the time of day is because she wants him. She tells everyone that he's her man."

Alex rolled her eyes and sighed. "He really has never had sex with any of the hookers he's taken home?"

"Nope. I honestly have no idea how he's able to resist temptation like that every day, but I guess fear of an STD is enough to do the trick. Condoms break you know, and from my talks with Bobby, he's real sensitive about things like that."

"You two talk about condom use?"

Carolyn actually blushed as she gave a shrug. "I'm undercover as a hooker, and I'm on the corner all night around hookers and sleazy johns…We get into weird conversations."

She chuckled at Carolyn's need to defend herself as she continued to watch the bar Bobby had ducked into. Minutes later, he reappeared on the sidewalk and started heading down the street in the direction of the club. "What kind of place is it?"

"Strip joint."

"Let me get this straight. A man who doesn't have sex with hookers, who actually tries to get them out from under their pimps and on the right track, owns a strip club?"

Carolyn huffed out a laugh, saying, "Yeah. It's funny really because he's so uncomfortable with the whole idea but he has to deal with it every day. It wasn't his idea though. Word is Vincennes took over the club after the original owner defaulted on payments. The location of the building, and the front it gave his guys to use as cover was perfect. And since Bobby's the capo running everything in the borough, Mack gave him the job of being its owner. He's not there long though. He goes in, takes care of business, and then for the rest of the day he's out."

"Doing what?"

"I don't know," Carolyn told her as they pulled away from the curb and headed further down the street. "That's now your job to find out. But, I do know that every night he returns to the club in time for closing and then walks home."

"How come you can't follow him?"

"I've tried, but that guy is like a ghost sometimes. He just disappears from surveillance and I've tried getting close to him on a more personal level but he doesn't trust easy. He's selective and highly aware of people and their motives."

"The guy sounds paranoid."

Carolyn drove ahead of Bobby as they approached the block the club was located on. "He has reasons to be."

Alex looked over at her and took in her look. "He's taken you home, hasn't he? You two talk."

Carolyn didn't say anything as she parked the car along the curb. Turning to her, she said, "Yeah, I've been there and we do talk, but…my job isn't to get a job in that club and it isn't to become his friend."

Alex had to remind herself that the FBI agent was there for a reason; that she had a certain objective just like she did. "What is your job?"

The agent looked away from her as she asked that. On the sidewalk, she watched as Bobby stopped jogging down the sidewalk as he neared the door. "I'm not completely undercover in this," Carolyn tried to explain. "Where you're cut off from the NYPD, your boss, I'm not. I still have to answer to the bureau. I still have to go into the field office in the mornings and sit through meetings. My main goal is to keep an eye on him, talk to the girls he does invite back to his place and gather as much information as possible. We met through me being out on the street and that's the only reason we talk. I can't spend 24-hours of the day, every day, doing that. That's why you're here."

Alex could tell that she was holding back, or maybe even lying to her, but she had no reason to think that the agent would lie to her. There was no reason for dishonesty, unless something was going on that she wasn't supposed to know about. Giving a soft smile, she said, "I didn't mean to say you weren't doing your job. I'm new at this whole thing and I guess I'm scared going in there without backup. I have no partner out here, no department behind me."

Carolyn relaxed a little as she told her, "You have backup. You may not see them and you may not know who they are, but there are friends out here. If anything goes down, you will be protected. Maybe by those you least expect."

"Like Janiel?"

Carolyn started laughing. "She's not one of us."

"I was going to say if she was, she's doing a damn good job at pretending to be a stung out junkie."

"All right, you're up. I'll call you when I'm on my way."

Alex opened the car door and stepped out. Eyeing the club across the street, she took a breath and told Carolyn, "Good luck."

"You too."

* * *

><p>The moment he entered the club he heard Tupac's voice rapping <em>Life Goes On <em>over the loud speakers. Hearing the song made him know immediately who was not doing their work. As he rounded the wall and stepped onto the main floor of the club, he saw Eric sitting on the barstool rapping out the song like he knew what the lyrics meant.

Eric was nineteen and recently moved to the neighborhood from Long Island to live with his father after his mom died. Up until that time, the kid went to a private Catholic school and spent his weekends in the Hampton's.

Bobby eased up behind the kid and stuck his cell phone against the back of his head. "Hands up!"

Eric squeaked as he threw his hands up in the air.

Shoving him against the bar, he asked, "What'd you doing in here? How old're you?"

"I-I work here…I…I'm," Eric stammered out in fear until he turned around to face him. At seeing it was him, the kid relaxed and gasped out, "That's not funny."

Bobby started laughing and so did half the staff as he shoved his cell phone in his pocket. "I thought it was. So, you wanna be a thug till you die?"

"Hell yeah. Thugs were it at, boss man." Eric got in the habit of calling him 'boss man' after hearing Santoro calling him that all the time.

Bobby leaned on the bar and stared hard into the young man's eyes. "A thug until you die," he said as if contemplating what that meant. "If you continue on the way you are, that'll be sooner than you think. Thugs are worthless morons who shoot up homes killing innocent women and children, babies, because they think it makes them hard. Thugs kill each other because they don't have the sense enough to know that if they work together they can get twice as much. Thugs rob old ladies, steal from their own, and sell coke to kindergarteners. Thugs spend more time running from cops and getting sent up than they do enjoying what they got. Are you telling me that that's what you want to do? If it is, there's the door. I'm sure the Eighty-Sixers are recruiting. All you gotta do is hold down an innocent kid you've never met and beat his head in with a baseball bat. Or how about shooting a fifth grader in the chest to give you some street cred? How about that, huh? Is that what you want your life to be?"

"Nah, man."

"Nah, man? Who'd I look like to you, one of your homeboys? I'm your boss, you respect me as your boss," he scolded the kid.

"No, boss," Eric corrected with a slight tremor in his voice. "I don't want that. I don't wanna be a thug."

"Good, because really, who wants that? Thugs can't even spell right," he said as he grabbed the broom that was leaning against the stool and shoved it into Eric's chest. "Now get busy sweeping the floor before I kick your ass. And pull up your pants, you look like an idiot. Girls don't find that attractive you know. Maybe street girls but not the models you fantasize about having one day."

Eric started laughing at that as he adjusted his jeans, tightened his belt, and then got started on sweeping the floor.

Bobby shook his head at the kid before turning to Maggie who was inventorying the liquor bottles. She was a tall woman, five-seven, with strawberry blond hair that swept over her shoulders. She once worked as a stripper at the club but felt she was getting to old for it now. He thought at forty-one she still looked pretty damn hot, and from her toned muscles, she could easy put up a good fight. The woman could move, and talk, and her smile was pretty sweet too.

A year ago the woman had broken his reserve and they had a fleeting affair that lasted a little over a month. She knew he couldn't be anything more than a warm body in her bed or a nice guy to have dinner with, so she'd broke it off when a guy came along that promised her more. He didn't blame Maggie because she had a child, a son, who needed a father and that wasn't him.

Neither was the asshole who promised her the world only to break her heart. That had been two months ago when she found out that he was stealing money from the club and cheating on her with one of the strippers. He had fired the stripper and then found the man who stole $70,000 from him. He turned out to be the same guy who was about to attack Agent Barek out on the street.

When Barek told Lexus he had broken both of the man's hands, she hadn't been exaggerating.

Trying to get his mind away from that dangerous area, he said, "Give me a scotch, Maggie. Eric's giving me a headache already."

She laughed as she took the bottle of Glenlivet from the counter and poured him a glass. "I shouldn't have let him put on that rap CD," she said in her mid-western accent.

"It wasn't the music. I like Tupac."

Maggie stared at him. "Sure you do."

"I do. You can't do time in the State Pen without coming to respect rap music. If Eric actually listened to the lyrics he'll realize that Tupac's rapping about letting that thug life go, to let it only live in your memories. Once you're a man, you've got to get away from it. It's not worth it." She looked confused so he explained, "The whole songs about getting off the street, stop running around in the thug life, and make sure your life goes on by stopping the dealin' and bangin'. Tupac himself got straight before he got killed."

Maggie shook her head at him, then said, "I don't even know what to say to that other than an Italian boy like you should not know anything about rap songs. And what makes you different than thugs and street gangs? You all do the same thing."

"No, we don't. When have we ever done a drive-by? Shot kids who did nothing to nobody who were just walking home from school?"

"Do I look like a soldier to you?" she shot back.

Bobby sighed but he got the point. She had no idea what they did, which was how it was supposed to be. "Okay, I get it, but just so you know, we don't do drive-bys and we don't randomly shoot people, especially children. It's not cool, it's not funny…It's senseless and wrong."

"Right. You just kidnap guys, beat and torture them, and then dump them in the river."

"See, that's not a drive-by. That's not popping someone in the middle of the street and causing turf wars. We handle things on the dl. And everyone we…uh, have a talk with, are grown men who are anything but innocent."

Maggie rolled her eyes and went back to work.

"You watch too many mafia movies. We don't dump people in rivers. The mafia's going green now, haven't you heard?"

That got a laugh out of her as she recounted the liquor bottles.

"How're we looking?"

"There's a shipment of booze scheduled for tomorrow. We'll be restocked with plenty left over."

Tomorrow was Thursday, they would be ready for the weekend crowd without having to worry about running out of alcohol. "Food's good?"

"We've got plenty of wings, pizza, fries…Oh, our cook wants time off this weekend so I'm looking into getting someone else in here for the weekend."

"What's going on with Jeff?"

Maggie shrugged as she opened the coolers. "How am I supposed to know? He called in here and tells me he needs the weekend. I tell him to check the calendar and if no one else is taking those days I'll see what I can."

Bobby looked down the hall toward the kitchen and saw the lights off. Jeff was their cook but he was also their bookie. He collected bets from people all over the borough for them along with his cousin Sal. Maybe Billy had been on the payphone with Sal, and not Jeff? "He called in?"

"At nine this morning, when he knew you wouldn't be here."

"I'll talk to him."

"And before you take off," she said with a smile on her face, "guess what else is getting delivered tomorrow?"

Bobby's eyes got wide as he asked, "Please tell me it's what I've been waiting on for weeks now?"

She nodded and he grinned wider. "I got the call this morning. It'll be out back waiting for you at eight a.m. on the dot. How much did that thing cost you again, twenty thousand?"

"Try fifty, and it's worth every penny."

"Not from where I'm standing. I would've bought a house."

"I don't need a house."

"That's because you don't have a kid."

Bobby smiled even more as he picked up the glass of and took a drink. Then he asked in all seriousness, "So, you don't like Tupac at all? _Keep Your Head Up_?_ Unconditional Love_?_ Dear Mama_? _California Love_?"

"Stop it! You're freaking me out," Maggie said with a laugh as she threw a handful of napkins at him.

"You gotta restock those."

Maggie turned the clipboard around to face him. "Sign," she ordered him as she put a pen down on the order forms.

He quickly signed off on them and handed her the pen back. Bobby took another sip of the scotch when he felt his cell phone vibrate against his hip. Taking it out, he answered, "Donovan."

"O.H.P., twenty minutes."

"A pick up?" he asked, surprised that Demarco was calling him personally for this job. Usually they had a couple of their soldiers doing a pick up.

"What else."

Bobby flipped the phone shut and sat quiet a moment before asking Maggie, "How 'bout Jay-Z?"

"That's it, out!" she said as she pointed toward the back of the building. "There's nothing else for today anyway."

"You don't know what you're missing."

She leaned on the counter, getting right up in his face, as she said, "Yes, I do and guess what, I'm glad I'm missing it."

Bobby couldn't help but look her over from chest up. He remembered how they were together and he missed it. Downing the rest of the scotch, he slid off the barstool, saying, "Call me if you need anything."

"Always do," she called out as he headed down the hall toward the back door.

Out in the back parking lot were two teenagers, Chris and Mikey Jr. who were the sons of Mike Sr. One of the Ricci brothers who was at the diner. Chris was the oldest at eighteen. Mikey Jr. had just turned sixteen and been promoted from delivering goods and parking cars to being a driver.

Approaching the Honda parked in the last spot by the wall, Bobby asked, "Whose turn's it?"

"Mikey's," Chris said as he pulled out the keys and tossed them to Mikey.

Bobby got in the passenger side as Mikey got into the driver's seat. "You know what you're doing right?" he teased the young kid.

"Of course, Mr. Donovan. I got it."

At least the kid had more respect than Eric. Bobby took his gun out from his behind his back where it dug into his spine and put it in the glove box. Next to the gun were a set of flexi-cuffs that he took out, he put them inside his jacket. Once out of the spot and heading toward the street, he told him, "Owls Head; no hurry so obey all traffic laws."

Mikey smiled over at him before pulling out into traffic. "I've driven before."

"You got a license?"

The kid blinked back and then looked at him with a confused look. "Who has a license? Last I checked, if we can do it for free we do it…like getting cable. No one in New York buys cable, if we can't steal it from our neighbors then we do without it."

Bobby nearly died laughing all the way down the street. The kid wasn't too smart, but he was funny. "Oh, Jesus…I'm gonna have to get you a license if you're going to be driving me around kid."

"What for? If I get pulled over or stopped, and I have no ID, they won't know who I am, right? I'll go in for driving without a license. I'm a minor, what're they gonna do?"

"But if you have a license, you won't get taken in. See? You'll get a warning or a fine. And I didn't say let's go to the DMV, I said I'll get you one."

Mikey thought about that for a moment before asking, "Can you make it to where I'm twenty-one?"

"Yeah, no problem. How'd you think Eric's able to work for us at the club."

"Awesome."

Bobby chuckled and then turned serious as he said, "You ran the stop sign."

"No one was coming."

Bobby stared over at the kid as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The way this kid was driving, it might be his last.

* * *

><p>Carolyn had dropped her off at the club as she continued on the way, to where she wasn't told. The FBI agent had her own duties and objective for this operation so they had to split up, but she wished they could've stayed together. At this point, she didn't know who the other undercover officers were, and even though Carolyn told her not to worry, she was worrying.<p>

She felt alone for the first time ever since being on the job and that scared her more than anything. With no known backup or a partner to rely on, she started working the street like she normally did while working Vice.

By now they knew that Bobby had left the club, but today her goal wasn't to track him down. It wasn't even to talk to him. Her whole goal was to get a feel for the people that worked the club, that prowled the street, how the neighborhood operated around or along with the club and who worked there. Who came and went, how often, what they did and for how long did they stay.

Typical Intel work by gathering as much information as possible to assess the situation and the environment before making her move to infiltrate deeper. It wasn't like she could just walk in and say 'hey, I wanna join in'. She had to choose her opportunities, like becoming just a working girl on the corner who when tired, went into the club to use the restroom, or to get a drink, or to ask about working the poles.

Oh yeah, she had to do it before on the job. One of her first assignments with Vice was in a strip club. She knew how to twirl around the damn thing without falling off while wearing ten-inch heels.

Joe asked her to keep the heels, and every Christmas he tried to convince her to get a pole. Every year he looked devastated when one didn't magically appear in the bedroom.

She heard a whistling sound coming from her left and when she looked she saw two men approaching the club. One was a young man in his twenties, and he had light brown hair and striking blue eyes. He was dressed in a tan leather jacket over a black t-shirt tucked into a pair of tailored black pants. His shoes were a pair of black Nikes. The other man was older, dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit, tailor perfectly to his solid frame.

"Don't whistle at the working girls, Rick."

Rick smiled over at her, then gave her a wink before opening the door and holding it for the older man. "Sure thing boss," he said but didn't take his eyes off her until he turned to enter to club.

They were definitely two men she had to keep her eye on and find out who they were. Heading into the alleyway, she looked around before scuffing herself up, smearing her makeup, and tearing at her clothes. Then she took her right high-heel off and broke the heel off.

Satisfied that she could pull this off, she waited a few more minutes before staggering out of the alley and limping up to the door to the club.

When she entered, they were checking the sound system and some of the strippers were on stage practicing. She saw a woman behind the counter talking to some teenage looking kid about how to get up into the rafters to fix the bulbs that had burned out.

No one gave her a second glance as she headed toward the woman's restroom. She closed the door and made an attempt at straightening herself out and reapplying her makeup. Then she broke the other heel off to make it even before leaving.

She walked up to the bar a little sheepishly as the woman came over to her with a look of concern on her face. "I saw you come in honey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Alex said, letting her voice tremble slightly before she took a breath to calm herself. "Some guys just don't get it."

"Is he still out there?"

"I don't know. He took off when I started yelling for help but…"

"Hey Jason, check outside and see if anyone's out there?" the woman yelled to one of the bouncers gathered at a table by the stage.

Jason did as he was told and went to the door to check the street. "No one out there except the regulars."

"Some asshole attacked this woman just now, so keep an eye out would ya?"

"You got it, Mags," Jason said as he took one last look around before coming back in to talk to another bouncer.

Alex looked grateful as she said, "Thanks. I didn't know…I'm new to this block."

"I know, I usually see you further down," the woman told her. "Maggie," she said as she held out her hand. "Now, you want a drink or what?"

"Please. A beer, whatever's coldest."

Maggie got her a Bud Light and placed it in front of her. "It's on the house."

Alex took the bottle when she saw the two men who had come in earlier appear from behind the stage. They walked up to the bar and Rick was once again checking her out.

The older man stopped at the bar and placed his hands on top of it. "You're right, he's not here."

Maggie crossed her arms as she held her ground against the cold look from the man. "That's what I said. I don't know when he'll be back either."

"Give him a call and get him here."

Maggie shook her head, saying, "I don't know his number. He's a private guy."

The man didn't look convinced but he pushed off the counter and told Rick, "Let's go," before looking back at Maggie. "When he get's in, tell him Sean Quint stopped by."

"No problem, Mr. Quint. Have a good day. Drop by anytime," she yelled after the man, clearly annoyed. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm half Irish but I'll tell ya, that guy's an Irish prick."

Alex sat at the barstool and it took all the effort she had to swallow the sip of beer stuck in her throat. That was Sean Quint, which meant the guy with him was Rick Jameson…They were Irish mob. Quint was the underboss to Liem Connolly.

"You okay?" Maggie asked as she turned back to her.

Nodding, Alex got out of her tight throat. "Yeah, fine. Just replaying what happened in my head. I've never…I mean, I've never been close to-"

"Hey, it's okay. As long as you're in here, you'll be okay. This is a good place, well, for the most part. We're a family, ya know."

They were a family all right, a mob family. Alex took another drink of the beer as she debated with staying in the club or not. So far she was making progress, learning the names of who worked there and the fact that the Irish mob just dropped by. She didn't know what that was about but had a guess they came by to see Donovan.

"Say, have you worked in a kitchen before?"

Alex blinked at the woman before giving a nod. "I used to work in a diner, and a bar, years ago."

Maggie smiled a little as she leaned against the bar and asked, "Want to get off the street for a little while? Our cook bailed on us for this weekend and we're short on staff."

Eagerness quickly replaced the shock and she gave a nod. "That sounds great. Thank you, you don't have to…"

She shrugged it off as she lifted the top of the counter to come out from behind the bar. "No problem. I know it'll be okay with the boss. He's always trying to help girls out on the street. He'll be fine with it."

Maggie showed her around the kitchen and explained to her what time to come in, the hours, the pay, and what to expect. "There's not a lot of food cooked during the week days, but on weekends, we usually get roughly fifty orders or so. People get hungry when they drink. Pizza's our biggest request. The girls and the staff also eat while we're here, so you'll get us coming in to ask for something every once in a while."

"When do you work?"

"On the weekdays I'm only here during the day to do inventory and oversee the maintenance, help the girls practice, and do the books."

"But you're not the owner."

"I'm more like the manager. The owner, he was here earlier. He does all the behind the scenes stuff and signs off on orders. If there's some major renovations or an after-party happening, then he's here. If not, you'll hardly see the guy. Anyway, Monday through Wednesday I'm here during the day. Friday through Sunday, I'm working at night as bartender. I'm off on Thursday's and in my place is Jason. Thursday's are shipment days so I let the boys do all the hard work while I'm home sleeping." Maggie opened the door to a room which held rolls of lockers. "We all have our own…Here," she said as she stopped in front of an empty locker.

"I'm only working one weekend," Alex said as she looked at the locker.

"Maybe. We could use another cook to alternate, and bartender to help out. I'll talk to Bobby about it the next time I see him."

Playing dumb, Alex asked, "Who's Bobby?"

"Oh," Maggie looked surprised as she realized what she'd said. "He's the owner."

Alex let out a breath as she looked at the locker. She couldn't believe it. All she was trying to do today was gather Intel, and now she was being offered a job in the club. "When do I start again?"

Maggie smiled as she headed back toward the main floor. "Friday. Be here by six to start getting food prepared and to help set things up. Even though we all have our different jobs, we're a team. We all pitch in with the set up and cleaning. Like I said, we're a family here. And once you start working for us, you'll soon be part of it. Irish blood or not," she said with a wink.

Alex sat back down and took hold of the beer she left on the bar. Normally, she would never drink something in a bar that she sat down and walked away from, but as she looked around she knew that no one there messed with it.

Maggie suddenly turned around and said, "I didn't even get your name."

"It's Alex," she said as she brought the bottle to her lips.

There was no application to fill out, no tax forms…Maggie didn't even ask for a last name, phone number, or even her address.

As she took a drink, she thought about how Carolyn would take this news.

* * *

><p>Owls Head Park looked as empty as it always did that time of day. It bordered 68th and Colonial Road, and Shore Road to the north and east with ran along Belt Parkway, the piers, train and ship yards. It was a popular park for dog owners who lived in the neighborhood. Demarco Vincennes was currently one of those owners.<p>

Kneeling in front of the Jack Russell, Bobby nearly lost his heart to the pup. The pup jumped up, putting his paws on his knees and immediately started trying to lick his neck and face. "Aww, aren't you the cutest…Such a good boy, yes you are," he said while he rubbed at the dog's head, behind his ears, and along his back.

"Knock it off," Demarco sternly told him as he kept petting the dog.

"Your owner is such an asshole, yes he is."

"Donovan, I mean it. We got business to handle."

Bobby chuckled as he stood and took the leash from the underboss. "Can I keep him?"

"He's Lucas's birthday present. Mack wanted me to get it house trained first before letting it run loose in the house."

"Jack Russell's are smart. I'm sure by next week he'll be to take his own self for a walk." Bobby looked back toward the street where Mikey was waiting in the car. He held up two fingers and heard the car start before watching as he pulled away from the curb.

As they walked, the dog kept trying to run ahead of them but each time he got too far, Bobby would pull a little on the leash. "Heel, boy. What's his name?"

Demarco shrugged, saying, "It hasn't been named yet."

"Well, Lucas is only three, I doubt he'll be able to actually name him."

"You're not naming the dog."

Bobby gave him a look before pulling out the envelope he'd gotten from the street vendor, minus his cut of the pay. "A tribute, for you and your boss."

Demarco took the envelope full of cash and tucked into inside his jacket pocket. They walked a little more before he turned around and started walking back toward the street. "First building on the corner of Narrows, third floor. Apartment 303."

"And it's just a pick up?"

"For now. Take the package to the usual drop-off. Call me when you get there."

Bobby nodded as he handed over the leash. Mikey had driven around the block twice and was coming up the street as he stepped off the curb. "How many?"

"Only one."

Nodding he headed to the car and slid into the passenger seat. Bobby put his hand on the gear shift and told him, "Stay put." He watched through the rearview until he saw Demarco's Cadillac turn down Narrows Avenue before telling Mikey, "Okay, park right here, next to the back walk."

"There's already a car there."

Bobby looked at the kid, saying, "Behind the other car, next to the tree."

Mikey rolled his eyes but backed the car up so he could maneuver the car into the parking spot by the tree.

As they got out of the car, he asked, "Have you done a pick up before?"

Mikey shook his head as they walked around to the front of the apartment building. As they past the fire escape, Bobby looked up at it and the if the ladder that went down to the sidewalk looked long enough. It did and he knew that he could use it if needed, depending on where the apartment was located. The third floor was the top floor and their was no elevator, like he was expecting one, so they had to hurry up the stairwell.

Searching the floor, he found that 303 was in the middle, along the south side of the building.

Taking in his location, he took Mikey further down the hall. "Stay here. Give me two minutes and then knock the door to apartment 303. Yell through the door for them to open up. Yell it loud, with authority, okay?"

"Where're you going?"

"I'll be waiting for the guy to make a run for it out on the fire escape."

"How'd you know he's going to run?"

Bobby stared at the kid before smiling and shaking his head. "You're…God, you're such a nice kid. Check your watch, two minutes," he said as he headed to the stairwell.

He nearly fell down the steps trying to get down them in less than a minute. Once out, he hurried around to the back of the building and jumped the gated fence. Going along the back cemented wall, he saw the fire escape off the back of the building, right were apartment 303 would be, and climbed up the wall and walked over to the fire escape. Thankfully he was as tall as he was or else he would have near been able to reach to the ladder. Scaling up to the landing, he took a breath and checked his watch.

Yelling could be heard through the window above him and moments later, the window banged open and a skinny white guy wearing a pair of jeans, New York Giants jersey, and one shoe because the other shoe was in his hand, trip out the window. It wasn't until the guy was halfway down the steps and almost to him that he realized he wasn't alone on the fire escape.

Bobby saw the shocked 'oh shit' look cross his face right before he slammed the guy against the second floor window. The glass cracked where the guy hit it but that didn't slow the panic as he fought against him. A fist caught him in collarbone before he had the guy turned around and both his arms twisted up into his back.

"I ain't do nothin'," the guy protested as Bobby kicked the lever that dropped the ladder down to the ground. "You can't arrest me for what I didn't do!"

Bobby laughed at the guy as he positioned him right up to the edge of the fire escape, in the gap between the rails.

"How you gonna get me down, pig? You can't do it, man, you gotta let me go!"

"You're right. I can't get you down, but you have to know something about me before I let you go."

"What that?" the guy asked like he was about ready to be set free.

"I'm not a cop."

The confusion set in right before the guy started to shake in his arms. "Oh, no…No, no, y-you, you can't-"

"I swear, you guys are so stupid. Soon, all of you will go the way of the Dodo bird," Bobby said as he let go of the guy.

"Wha-" the guy tried to reach out to grab the railing before he lost his footing on the edge of the landing. "Shit!" he yelled as he fell down onto the trash bins below.

Luckily for the guy it wasn't that far of a fall, only about ten feet.

The guy got up and started to limp away with an injured ankle but Mikey was right there to stop him. Bobby climbed down the ladder and dropped a few inches to the ground. As he walked up behind the defeated guy, he took out the flexi-cuffs and tied the guy's hands behind his back.

Grabbing the guy by the back of the neck, he pushed him toward the car. "Right this way; we got the trunk ready for you and everything."

"Shit, not the trunk, man. C'mon."

Mikey took out the car keys and hit the truck button as they approached the car. "Hey, have some respect," he told the guy as he lifted the truck lid further and held it. "That's Bobby Donovan you're talking to."

With hearing that, the guy really started to struggle. "Ah, hell no! No, please, oh God…I didn't…I'll do whatever you want," he begged. "I promise! Whatever just name it. Please, Mr. Donovan-"

"You wanna help me, get your ass in the trunk," Bobby said he shoved the guy down into it.

Mikey picked up the duct tape and quickly wrapped the tape all the way around the guys' mouth and head before slamming the trunk lid down.

Bobby took the keys from Mikey as he said, "Get in the backseat."

"Why?"

"Do it," Bobby snapped at him. He was getting sick of the kid questioning him all the time.

As soon as Mikey got in the back, the seat tried to come down from the inside the trunk and he had to hit it to keep the guy from pushing on it. "Oh," he said as he kicked at the other seat as it started to coming down.

"This is why I hate new cars," Bobby said mostly to himself as he started the engine and then headed for the drop off point.

After a while, he heard Mikey say from the back, "What if someone saw us?"

Bobby looked in the rearview as he told him, "I'm sure someone did."

"And you're not afraid they'll call the cops?"

"They never call the cops."

"Why?"

Bobby took a breath as he slowed for a red light. "A number of reasons. The one I like to think about when I do this is that…whoever the guy in the trunk is, the decent people in the neighborhood are glad to see him go. So, ultimately, we're doing them a service." The light turned green and he checked both ways before easing out into the intersection.

"Whatever gets you through the day."

Bobby looked in the mirror and realized that maybe the kid wasn't as stupid as he first thought.

* * *

><p>"You got a job, already? How'd you manage that?"<p>

Alex shrugged as she said, "I showed up. I guess they needed a cook for the weekend, and they've been short on staff. I walk in, limping and looking like hell, claiming to have been attacked on the street by some john, and Maggie, the manger, gives me a job."

Carolyn stared at her for a moment before shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

"What'd you do today?" Alex asked as she put the maroon colored bed sheets back and turned around to face the flannel sheets.

"I had meetings all day. This new task force is just getting started and the bureau wanted to go over some things."

"Anything I should know?"

"Not yet, but after I tell them you're working in the club then you'll be hearing something."

Alex gave a nod as she selected a light blue patterned flannel sheet set. "I like it."

"Flannel, in the summer?"

"The apartment is freezing," she protested, causing Carolyn to raise her hands.

"Not my fault. I'm shocked the air works, but once it goes out…"

Putting the flannel set back, she turned back to the cotton sheets. "Maybe I should try silk."

"Oh, a red silk would be nice."

"For who?" Alex said as she looked at her. "It's not like I'm inviting guys back to my place. I can't even invite my husband."

"You're married? I didn't know that. How long?"

"Five years in September. Screw it, I'll just get the white." Alex grabbed the white cotton sheet set and headed to the next aisle where the comforters were.

"What's his name?"

Alex glanced at Carolyn as she smiled a little. "Joe, and before you ask, he's a cop too. He works Narcotics."

"Then he understands what you're doing. He's okay with it."

"Not really. When I told him, he freaked out a little. A few years ago, on the job, he was shot while undercover. It changed everything for us. I mean, not really anything professionally because we both still go undercover, but personally it changed things. We stopped keeping secrets. Now with this I have to keep it a secret."

Carolyn remained quiet as they went through the task of selecting a comforter and then they both grabbed a pillow before heading for the check-out counter. "He knows that it's important. He's not going to blame you, it's the job."

"I know, that's what we both said, but it doesn't make it any better."

The sun was descending lower in the sky, darkening the horizon, as they headed toward the parking garage.

"When do you start?" Carolyn asked as they packed the trunk with hangers, sheets, pillows, and the comforter.

"Friday."

"I'll drop by and check on you."

Alex felt grateful for that as she rounded the car and got into the passenger seat. It was Carolyn's car, so she wasn't about to ask to drive unless it was asked of her. "Thanks, but are you sure?"

"It'll be okay," Carolyn told her as she started the car. "Bobby only knows me as a prostitute, and one he likes. You saw how he acted towards me yesterday."

Alex was quiet a moment before asking, "You're coming as Medea, wig and all?"

"Oh, God, don't remind me. You know what, I just might forget the wig."

TBC…

PS: Ever since ADiP, I never had an actress in mind for Maggie until I wrote this chapter. It's definitely Marg Helgenberger.


	4. Keeping the Faith

A/N: It's getting good people! Even I'm excited at where I'm taking this story; it's like watching a great mob movie, lol, you never know what's going to happen next until it happens.

* * *

><p>The guy he had in his trunk was Andy Pedoria. Andy had been an associate with Bracco's crew in the Bronx until three days ago when they learned that he had been stealing portions of their shipments for his own use and personal gain. Since they tracked Andy down to Bay Ridge, Bracco informed Demarco who contacted Mack who ordered Demarco to have him do the pickup.<p>

And that was why, at eight o'clock at night, he was in a rundown warehouse along the waterfront of Long Island City with Andy in the trunk. Mikey was sitting in the backseat making sure the guy didn't try to make a getaway while talking on his cell phone to his girlfriend.

Bobby paced outside of the warehouse, along the water, as he smoked on the first cigarette out of a new pack. He was waiting for the phone call. As of now, his only order had been to keep the guy in the trunk, but he knew that it would soon turn into something else.

He wasn't a soldier anymore; he didn't go around kidnapping people just to beat information out of them. The only reason Mack told Demarco to have him be the one to pick Andy up was because they didn't want Andy to breathe another breath.

He had called Agent Barek earlier and after she talked to her boss, who was Steve, she told him to do what needed to be done. Taking a long drag off the smoke while he stared at the skyline of Manhattan across the water, he felt himself start to shake. He was being ordered by not only the mob but also the FBI to kill a guy.

When he'd first been ordered to do that eight years ago by the bureau, Steve had told him that it was a necessary casualty of war. That had been the same term they'd used while serving together in the Army. However, that was when they'd been sent on missions to take out enemy compounds in the blistering heat of the desert or in the jungles of South Korea, Asia, and even South America.

War was hell, and he had survived it. Now, he had to remind himself that this was also war. It wasn't the same kind, but the concept still applied. He was at war in the streets of New York and that wasn't some innocent man in the trunk.

Andy was a mob affiliate, a drug dealer, and back in '95 he had been involved in a robbery that resulted in the deaths of two men. Andy wasn't a good guy.

Andy wasn't someone he could save.

The cell buzzed in his pocket. Taking it out, he flipped it open as he answered, "Donovan."

It wasn't Demarco on the other end but Mack Vincennes, and he only told him two words before hanging up. "End him."

Flipping his phone shut, he stuffed the phone back in his pocket as he took one last drag off his cigarette before flicking it into the water. "End him," he muttered as he pulled the keys from his pocket as he walked to the car.

He didn't know what to think when the person he felt the most sympathy for was Mikey. Mikey had no idea what he was getting into when Chris tossed him the keys to the car earlier.

The sixteen-year-old had no idea that in a matter of minutes he was going to be ordered to strip down to his skivvies and hold Andy down while he broke every bone in his body. He wasn't a cruel man by nature, so as always the first thing he broke was Andy's neck to prevent suffering.

Mikey had amazed him because the kid didn't get sick until after they rolled the barrel over the edge that sent Andy, who was in it, to the bottom of the river. Bobby had expected the kid to freak-out earlier when he'd picked up the metal mallet, but he hadn't. All Mikey did was turn his head.

Going back inside the warehouse, he found the hose and turned the water on. They took turns washing the blood off their bodies before dressing even though they were both soaking wet.

It wasn't until they were heading back to the neighborhood that Bobby looked over at Mikey, asking, "You okay?"

Mikey hadn't said a word since he told him to get off the phone. He gave a nod but still didn't speak.

He wasn't going to force the kid to talk about it because he didn't want to talk about it either.

It had taken him years to learn how to live with the demands of his job. There was absolutely no pleasure in taking a life. None. He had learned to shut himself down, to not feel it, to not think about it, as he did what he had to do in order to keep going. It was in the name of the job, in justice and God that he believed propelled him forward because he had no choice. If he didn't have faith that he was doing the right thing then he would've died a long time ago.

There was no one he could run to, or turn to, when he felt he couldn't do it anymore. And what was waiting for him afterwards, if he quit, wasn't any better. It wouldn't involve death, but it wouldn't involve a life either.

Not a life for him anyway, and at the end of the day, that was what he couldn't live with. He had to have a purpose. He had to make this right in the end. He had to see this through until either he died or the entire mafia collapsed. It was an idealistic goal, one that he knew would never happen, but it was something worth fighting for until he could no longer fight.

So, with a deep breath and a silent prayer to God for forgiveness, he pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Mikey.

"I don't smoke," the kid told him and for some reason that made him smile as he stuck it in his mouth and lit it.

Then, with all honesty, he told Mikey, "Neither do I."

Mikey looked confused because he, of course, didn't get it. He didn't get the fact that his boss was living two different lives and that Bobby Goren, his true self, didn't smoke.

Bobby Goren also didn't kill people unless the FBI told him too. If the bureau told him not to do it, he wouldn't have done it. He would have found a way to get Andy out of the situation without killing him.

However, there wasn't anything Andy could offer the FBI for protection. Andy Pedoria was a nobody who wouldn't be missed.

Another casualty of war.

* * *

><p>He parked in a garage two blocks down from his brownstone apartment and walked home. It was a quiet night on the street with only the police sirens wailing blocks away until they faded in the distance. Bobby wished his thoughts could drift away like that, faded away until he couldn't hear them anymore. There would be no sleep for him tonight unless he drowned his body in alcohol, and that was what he was planning on doing.<p>

That was until he spotted a familiar looking woman sitting on the steps outside the brownstone. She was dressed casually, jeans and a tank top under a light jacket; her hair was once again her natural color and look as there was no need to play her role tonight. Without prompting, he sat down next to her on the steps and looked at her.

Barek gave him a soft, sympathetic smile as she offered him a beer out of the brown paper bag she had next to her. He took it as she pulled one out for herself and opened it.

Clicking the bottles together, Bobby said a silent toast to Andy before downing half the bottle. Barek didn't say anything as she leaned back on the steps while he rested his elbows on his knees. His body wouldn't relax, not with the amount of guilt and anger coursing through him. He wouldn't feel somewhat better until he dropped to his knees in front of Mother Mary and confessed his sins. He would never confess to a priest because he didn't want absolution, he felt he didn't deserve it.

"Are you Catholic, Agent Barek?" he asked as he turned his head to look at her.

Barek leaned up and looked him the eyes as she told him, "Yes."

"D-do, uh…do you think th-that, uh…that God, that he'll forgive me?"

Barek was quiet as she took a sip of her beer. After giving it some thought, she turned to him as she honestly told him, "I don't know, Bobby. I can't answer that for you; that depends on you, and I don't know what you think or how you felt when…" she trailed off as she studied him hard and close. She was still learning to trust him. "I see that you have a lot of guilt and I think you're honestly sorry for what you did."

"But," he said as he let out a breath. "I can't be forgiven, you think? Because, I'll do it again. I can't be given absolution unless I promise to God to never do it again."

"You still have faith after all this?"

Bobby nodded as stared at the ground beneath him. "When I was younger, I lost my faith completely, but…somewhere along the line, I started to believe again because…I-I, uh…I think it had to do with trying to find a reason why I've been put in this situation, you know. I have to believe that I'm doing this for a greater good, and what's greater than God?"

Barek had the decency to attempt to talk him out of his reasoning or tell him that it was stupid to think God approved of what he was doing. It was lie, he knew, but it was a lie he had believe because if he didn't he wouldn't survive this. He might as well put his own gun to his head and pull the trigger; either way, he was going to Hell.

So, he had to have faith. He had to trust that at the end day he would be forgiven whether he deserved it or not.

"You pray?"

"Everyday."

Barek gave a nod then said, "Then I hope God hears you."

Bobby looked over at her, and with a soft smile, told her, "Thank you…for listening. You didn't have to come by tonight."

She looked just as guilty as he did when she told him, "I gave you the order to take his life. I'm just as guilty as you are." She downed the rest of her bottle and took another one out of the bag.

Bobby finished off his and accepted a new one as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one.

"This is my first job with the bureau," she told him.

That surprised him because she had seemed so confident and sure of herself since meeting her. She sounded like a pro.

"My first job right out of the academy, and I have to be your watchdog and tell you if it's okay to kill somebody for not."

He heard the regret and the bitterness in her voice and immediately felt sorry for her. Bobby saw the tears welling in her brown eyes and wanted to reach up and wipe them away but feared her disgust at such a move from him. Restraining himself, he asked, "Before then…What? College?"

She laughed a little as she wiped her own eyes. "Yeah. I majored in Psychology and Criminal Justice."

"Wow, I'm impressed. I just thought you were a badass bitch, now I know you're a badass bitch with a brain."

Barek laughed harder as she shoved him. He was glad he got her out of her sorrow, if only for a moment. "Oh, you calling me a bitch now? I could say plenty about you."

Bobby opened his arms, telling her, "Take your best shot. C'mon, I can take it. I've heard it all."

"I heard Janiel gave you an ear-full this morning."

Rolling his eyes, he said, "Don't remind me. I had to cuss her out and threaten her just to get her off my back…at least for today," he quickly added because he knew she would be at it again tomorrow.

Leaning back, he finally felt himself relax. He hadn't realize how much he needed to talk, to interact with someone tonight until just then. It felt good to confide in another and to trick his mind into forgetting for awhile; and the fact that Barek was a gorgeous woman also helped. If he was completely honest with himself he would admit that he found her highly attractive; all of her, from her dark Italian skin to her big doe eyes and her long wavy hair turned him on. Her street smarts mixed with her book smarts also intrigued and excited him.

However, he knew she didn't see him the same way he saw her. She didn't know who he truly was and he didn't think she would jeopardize her career or the job for a guy like him. All he could hope for, besides her just being his contact and co-worker, was to be friends. The fact that she brought him beer tonight helped to solidify that need of friendship.

Taking a risk, he quietly asked, "Can I ask you of something?"

Barek raised her eyes at him as she took a sip of beer.

Bobby actually blushed slightly at that look; it was cute. "Um, eh-it's not any-, uh, anything…I mean, it's a-a, uh, a simple request."

"Bobby, just ask. The worst I'll do is smack you."

He laughed a little, still embarrassed for wanting to ask and not sure why. "Okay, uh…It's just, I told you to call me Bobby so, uh, I was just…You know, Barek is so formal and-"

She actually reached up and silenced him with her hand over his mouth. God, how he wanted to do something to that hand. It took all his energy to not kiss it, or lick it, or grab it to move it away so he could kiss her.

Barek pulled her hand away as she asked, "Are you always this nervous around women?"

"Yeah," he told her as he fought the urge to not lie to her.

He was nervous around women; they intimidated him more than men did. He had his mother to blame for constructing that barrier. Women could destroy him; they could play him so bad, making him a fool, before ripping his heart out and stomping on it. He gave them that power because he would do anything to please them. To try and get them to stay but it never happened. They always left, just like everyone else.

She was staring hard into his eyes, trying to get a read on him. Then, her lips twisted up into a slight smile as she told him, "Okay. You can call me by my first name."

Bobby waited but when she didn't continue, he asked, "Which is…?"

Smiling wider, she told him, "Carolyn."

Giving a nod, he said, "I like it. It fits."

"Just don't think this means anything," she strictly told him; shooting down any fleeting thought he had of them being anything more.

He would work on the friends thing and keep the rest to himself, like always. "You have my word, Carolyn," Bobby told her before downing his second bottle.

After they finish off the beers, he waited until she was in her car and down the street before opening the gate and going down to his apartment.

* * *

><p>He hadn't slept; not a single wink of rest since yesterday morning. The beer he had with Carolyn wasn't enough and even though he had drunk a half bottle of scotch after his shower, where he had scrubbed himself raw, he still couldn't stop reliving the night.<p>

Early that morning, he dressed and left an hour ahead of schedule. Walking east instead of west, he approached the church and slipped inside. It was empty that morning as he wetted his fingers in the holy water and crossed himself before heading up the aisle. After lighting a candle, he fell to his knees in front of the Mother of God, Mary, and pulled out his own mother's rosary as he gave into his guilt and misery. His prayer broke from the pain in his throat and the tears that soaked the palm of his hands that he pressed into his eyes in a failed attempt to keep them at bay.

Father Flanagan kneeled next to him like he did every time he was there. Just as he knew the priest by name, the Father knew his name. He knew who Donovan was and he could probably guess why he was there that morning baring his soul.

Getting himself under control, he wiped his eyes and cleared his throat as he stared down at the floor in shame.

"Why don't you come into the confessional?" Father Flanagan softly asked; his voice was comforting, never holding a trace of judgment or hostility.

The Father asked him that every time, and every time he declined. "I can't," he told him as he went to stand.

Standing with him, Father Flanagan said, "You've helped so many women, Bobby. You bring us girls to help get off the street all the time, get them into our programs, yet you refuse to help yourself." He gripped him on the shoulder and waited until he looked at him before saying, "I believe you can also be saved, son."

That nearly broke his heart, but it also gave him hope that maybe the Father was right. Maybe one day he could be, but today wasn't that day. Stepping away, he said, "Thank you, Father."

He couldn't get himself to hold his head up high as he walked away and left the church.

Hours later, he was sitting at the bar in the club that had Donovan's name on it drinking his fifth cup of coffee. Along with the pack of cigarettes he was slowly working through, he was making his body shake from the overwhelming stimulation. Taking a long drag off the smoke, he watched as Jason helped with the beer delivery; counting the cases and stocking them in the refrigerator.

The club was busy with activity as the staff worked on cleaning, restocking, and practicing dance numbers. The girls liked to mix it up every night, dance to different music or come up with a new routine. Some girls were new and still focusing on getting the basics down with the help from the women who've been there longer. Out of the ten strippers that worked there, four were women he'd help get off the street along with two of the waitresses.

There had been more, but they had either fallen back into their old habits and ended up back on the street or they had gotten different jobs. One woman, Cecilia, had taken college courses while working there and soon after graduating gotten a job as an RN at a local clinic. She was one of the success stories; every so often she would show up to encourage the other girls to do the same. As of now, Jessica, Amanda, and Tonya were all taking college classes during the day and on their off days.

Rubbing at his head, he watched as Jessica was instructing their newest employee, Ashley, on how to not fall off the pole when hanging upside down using only her leg to keep her on it. _How in the hell? _Bobby shook his head and turned away.

It all made his head hurt.

"Hey, Bobby. A semi-truck just pulled up out back for you," Eric told him as he came through the backdoor, heading his way.

Downing the rest of the coffee, Bobby stuck his cigarette in his mouth and hurried toward the back. Eric, who was dressed in a t-shirt and swim shorts, stepped aside when he passed him. As soon as he pushed it open, he nearly stopped as he caught of the semi-truck parked next to the club.

The driver of the truck got out and shook his hand. "You're Mr. Donovan?"

"That's me," Bobby confirmed as he showed the driver his ID to confirm.

After he signed off for the car, the driver got to work getting his car out of the back of the semi. Walking around, he watched as the driver went through the long tasks of lowering the door, getting in the back of the semi to unhook his car, and then get in it to drive it off. The driver surprised him when he pulled on some gloves, put plastic over the seat and on the floorboard, before getting in the car. The man knew what he was doing, and he was respectful enough not to track any dirt or grease in the car.

By the time it was out of the truck, Bobby was bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. Once the truck driver got out and tossed him the keys, he quickly tipped the man five hundred for not only the work but for the care he took with the car. He waited until the semi-truck was out of the parking lot before circling the car.

Everything he had read and talked to the previous owner about the car was true. Nothing on the car was restored. It still had the original paint job from 1969, the same fenders, leather interior, gauges, lights, paneling, floor console, bucket seats and steering wheel. As soon as he lifted the hood to the engine he knew it was the original 188 Hemi Auto Hardtop RR built the year it was made. Holding the hood up with one hand, he took out his cigarette, blowing out a breath of air and smoke.

"I can't believe you paid fifty thousand for this old car."

Bobby blinked back from his admiration for a moment as he glanced over at Eric. "Eric," he said as he dropped the hood. "It's not all about new. This car won 30 awards from 1996 to 2000 at various car shows. It's a hundred percent authentic and has the original parts from the year it was made. Easily, this car could have been sold for a hundred grand or more at auction. I got it for half that; so you should be saying, 'dude, I can't believe you got a fucking 1969 Plymouth Road Runner for fifty grand.'"

Eric looked confused for a long moment before saying, "When have I ever said 'dude'?"

"You bought it to put in car shows," Chris asked as he rounded to the trunk of the car.

"No," Bobby said as he opened the trunk and lifted it up. "I bought it to have and drive because it's a hell of a nice car." Taking in the diameters of the trunk, he said with all seriousness, "Now, _that's_ a trunk."

Mikey joined him at the truck and looked down. "Wow, I bet we could put three bodies in there. And the backseats don't come down…Do they?"

Bobby dropped the lid to the trunk then walked around to the driver's door. All the guys were wearing swim shorts like he asked, so he told them, "All right, get in."

Eric, Mikey, and Chris all started to fight for a seat in the car, leaving Bobby only to shake his head as he waited for Eric to get in the backseat so he could get in. Pushing the seat back, he got in and started the engine.

At hearing it come alive and purring like a dream, Bobby grinned from ear-to-ear. "Oh, baby, baby…That's the sexiest sound in the world."

"You need a girl, boss man."

Bobby smirked in the rearview mirror at Eric as he shifted gears and headed out of the parking lot. Checking the gas tank, he saw it was full before turning on the radio. It was programmed on the rap channel and he quickly turned it.

"Ah, c'mon, that was good."

"Hey, I don't mind rap, just not right now," he said as he headed out of the parking lot and out on the street. "I need music, not…Here we go."

As _Keeping the Faith_ by Billy Joel played, Eric leaned over the seat and asked, "Who listens to this?"

Bobby stared at the kid as he said, "A badass motherfucker, that's who. Now sit back before I break your nose."

"There're no seatbelts," Chris said as he was digging in the seats trying to find one.

"It don't have seatbelts," Eric told him as he leaned back and stared out the window. "If we crash, we're all gonna die."

Bobby steered the car toward the interstate as he told Chris, "Look above you."

Chris gave him a look but looked up. Attached to the roof of the car were the seatbelts. "Oh, that's cool."

Mikey had been silent ever since getting in the car. He had looked through the glove box, inspected the floor console and then said with a nod, "I like it."

"Speaking of seatbelts," Bobby said as he buckled himself in. "Everyone should put them on before I get on the interstate."

They all looked at him as they hurried to secure themselves in the car. Mikey gripped the side of the door as he asked, "You're not going to flip us are you?"

Bobby glanced at the kid as he rounded the ramp onto the interstate. "I'll try not to," he told him before he sped up, got into the furthest lane to the left, and then hit the gas. Shifting gears, he had the pedal on the floor as _Free Bird_ by Lynyrd Skynyrd replaced Billy Joel. "If I leave here tomorrow," he started to sing as he looked out over the streets and buildings that blurred by. "Would you still remember me. I must be travlin' on now, 'cause there're too many places I've got to see. If I stay here with you girl, things just couldn't be the same. 'Cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you can not change."

"You're insane," Eric called from the back.

Bobby just chuckled as he looked over and saw Mikey nodding his head along with the music while looking out the windshield with a slight smirk on his face. "Lord knows, I can't change," he continued to sing as he darted in and out of traffic.

He had to slow down a few times as he got on and off ramps. Once he left Brooklyn, heading northeast toward Connecticut on I-95, he got it back up to 160 mph. Looking in the rearview, he saw both Chris and Eric pale, gripping the doors, and staring intently at the road.

It was then that Mikey asked, "Where're we going?"

Answering simply, Bobby said, "Port Chester."

Except for the music playing, the car grew silent as no one spoke after that.

* * *

><p>Alex lost him as soon as he got on the interstate. The new car he was driving got up to 120 mph in a matter of seconds and was gone before she could get her Toyota up to 80. Breathing out a breath of air, she got off the interstate and headed back to Brooklyn. She had been following Bobby all morning and the only thing she learned was that the guy goes to the church down the block from his apartment. That and the fact that he likes classic cars.<p>

She had to admit that the Plymouth Road Runner was an incredible car. Her dad would be proud by the fact that she knew not only that it was a '69 but that it had a 188 Hemi in the damn thing. And it was that reason that she lost it on the interstate. Her car couldn't keep up, and even if it did, she would look awfully suspicious chasing it down.

Resigning to the fact that she lost Bobby for now, she headed back to her stakeout at the club. She could still gather Intel on the others and see if the Irish mob showed back up today or not.

As she drove back to the neighborhood, she couldn't help but think of last night. Carolyn had gotten a call around seven that night and took it in her bedroom. Then, hours later, she had left the apartment. She didn't know why she had done it, other than it a feeling she had, but she had followed.

To her surprise, she followed the agent to a liquor store and then to Bobby's apartment where she waited half an hour for his arrival. She watched as the two talked and drank beer on the steps outside the brownstone. Their interaction was what she paid close attention to since she couldn't hear their conversation, and what she saw twisted a dreadful feeling in her gut.

It was clear to her that Bobby liked Carolyn, and that the agent wasn't objecting to his attention. She kept leaning into him, making eye contact, and playfully touching him by shoving him and putting her hand over his mouth. They conversation lasted for a few hours until the beer was gone.

Bobby had waited for Carolyn to get in the car and drive off; his look as he watched her leave told her that he was sorry to see her go. There was a longing in every movement and look on his face before he opened the gate and went down the steps to his apartment.

The hardest part was getting back to the apartment before Carolyn, which didn't happen. So, she went to the bodega across the street and did some shopping that she'd put off before going back up the three flights.

Carolyn had accepted her excuse of going out to do some shopping because there had been no reason to think otherwise, especially since she had three bags full of groceries. She had asked if she'd been drinking, because why would she know that the agent just spent hours drinking beer with the hit-man to the Italian mob.

The agent's excuse had been that she had a couple when she got home to wind down, and she acted like she believed her as she filled a glass of wine to unwind herself.

It wasn't like she didn't know that Carolyn had talked to Bobby before. That wasn't what made her worry, or put that sense of dread in her stomach. Yeah, the two talked, Carolyn had admitted as much to her earlier. Bobby thought she was Medea, a hooker, and had no idea she was FBI.

What caused her the dread was their interaction. She couldn't get it out of her head how comfortable they seemed to be, and how they looked at one another. It could have been that Carolyn's job was to get close to Bobby in an intimate way. For all she knew, Carolyn's job could be to become his girlfriend, but why not tell her that? Why not let her know to be expecting that kind of closeness between the two of them if that were the case.

The fact that Carolyn didn't tell her made her think that it wasn't supposed to happen. If that were the case, then the agent was falling for the guy on her own and that was a seriously bad thing. Bobby was a killer, a criminal, and the guy they were supposed to be taking down.

And the FBI agent assigned to help with that task could be jeopardizing it. She had Agent Norton's number and email; she could easily get in touch with him and voice her concerns to him but at the same time she felt conflicted in doing that without talking to Carolyn first.

So, she made a decision to ask the agent about it first and then if she was still uncertain, then she would contact Norton.

Parking in a parking lot across the street from the club, she pushed her concerns away for the time being as she went back to doing her job.

* * *

><p>The mansion Mack lived in when he wasn't at his brownstone in Brooklyn, or in his penthouse in Manhattan, was located at the end of a long rural street named Mount Holland Drive in Port Chester. He winded his way through the low-riding hills and wooded area before coming upon an opening for the driveway. It was seep and long, taking him up a hill and around a garden and fountain before coming to a stop in front of the six car garage.<p>

"Oh, my…God," Chris whispered under his breath as all three of the teenagers, who never thought they would be invited to the mob boss's mansion, stared out of the windows at the property.

The mansion was three stories and the length of a football field and they had to take two sets of staircases up to the front door. Lion statues guarded both sides of the door that opened to reveal Gerald 'Jerry' Garcia, Mack's personal bodyguard. In eight years, Bobby had never heard Garcia utter a single word.

"How's it going, Jerry?" he asked and didn't expect an answer in return. It would never happen. As he walked past Garcia into the foyer, he patted the man on the shoulder said, "I've got three boys with me. Mack invited us."

Jerry gave Eric, Chris, and Mikey a once over before letting them.

"Where is he?"

Jerry gave a nod toward the back of the house. Bobby watched as Jerry sat back down in the chair in the foyer and stared at the opposite wall as mute and still as one of those lion statues. The man had serious issues but Bobby wasn't about to try and find out what they were. Jerry gave him the creeps.

As he led them toward the back, he heard Eric say behind him, "That guy looked like The Thing, and he's creepy as hell."

Bobby ignored them as he didn't want them to see that he was also intimidated by the bodyguard. Heading further down the hall, he heard soft whispering as he approached the doors that led to Mack's private office. Turning the corner, he saw a few other guards sitting outside the doors talking.

At seeing him, they stood. Paul greeted him while Dave knocked on the door to announce his arrival, "Mr. Donovan."

Bobby shook Paul's hand while he watched as Dave closed the door and told him that he could go in.

Of course he could. He could have actually just knocked on the door and walked right in if he wanted but since he had the guys with him, he wanted to show them the proper way of doing things. It was all about respect. Turning to them, he said, "Stay out here, don't do anything, and I'll be right out."

Opening the door, he saw Mack at his desk. He looked tired and maybe even a little worried. That caused him to be worried as he closed the door and headed straight to the bar along the wall. Filling a glass with ice and scotch, he went over to the desk and sat on the edge of it. If he had been anyone else, Mack probably would have shot him for such a move. Holding the glass out, he offered it to his boss.

Giving him a slight smile, Mack took it with a crisp, "Thanks, Bob."

"You're welcome, sir." He waited until Mack seemed settled after taking a few drinks before saying, "I brought the boys, like you wanted. They're outside the door."

Nodding, Mack told him, "Show them the kitchen and the backyard. They're here to enjoy themselves. You told them to bring swim shorts, right?"

"Yes, sir. They were confused by that, especially when I told them where we were going."

Mack huffed out a laugh then waved him away. "Get them out of here and then come back. We've got business to discuss."

Bobby got up and headed toward the door. After showing the guys where the kitchen he took them outside to the backyard which consisted of a patio and deck, a sauna, hot tub, lounge chairs and a huge pool with everything from a diving board to a waterfall. "Alright," he told them, "have at it, just…don't drown each other."

They were all slow as they pulled their shirts off and stood around uncertain. Bobby rolled his eyes, grabbed Mikey by his arm, and then threw him into the pool. After that, Eric and Chris tried to tackle him down into the water but he was too big and stronger than the two teens to take down. He picked Chris up and tossed him in, as if the hundred and fifty pound eighteen year old weighed nothing, before Eric took off and jumped in with a loud yelp.

Once the boys were dunking one another in the water, he went back inside.

He got himself a glass of scotch, minus the ice, for himself and then proceeded to tell Mack what happened the night before at the warehouse. An hour later, Mack was off the phone and after giving him a hefty payment for a job well done, went over to the window that overlooked the pool.

Mack was quiet for a long time as the watched the boys. Suddenly, he asked, "If you were boss, and had to make one of them, who would it be?"

Without hesitation, he told him, "Mikey, definitely. He was calm last night. Didn't panic, took well to orders. And even though he's young and you know, has a lot to learn, he's smart. He could do some good work."

Mack was quiet for another long moment before giving a nod. "Then it'll be done."

Bobby stopped rubbing at his temple as he stared over at his boss. "You want Mikey to be made?"

"You're going to get an opening soon for another soldier. After that crackdown from two months ago, I'm short people."

Mack was referring to when a raid had been conducted on two of his union halls; after investigations, seventeen members of the union along with a couple of his soldiers were brought up on embezzlement charges, tax fraud, and extortion.

What Mack didn't know was that he was the one that gave the FBI the go ahead to conduct that raid. He had been in charge of giving them who, what, when, and where as well as who not to bring charge up on, yet.

The FBI, instead of taking everyone down at one go in order to prevent chaos, a war, and a lot of problems, wanted to gradually dismantle the mafia from the inside out. The key to that dismantling was him.

His job had was to climb through the ranks and get so imbedded into the family and the inter-workings of the mafia organization that he could take it apart a piece at a time. For eight years that had been his mission and so far he was succeeding even his own expectations. It usually took eight years or more to go from an associate to a soldier. He had gone from associate to soldier then to capo, consigliere and competent hit-man.

"I'm going to be moving people around," Mack was saying. "I've got soldiers in place to take over the union positions, got a couple graduating college to start doing our bidding in the corporate world. They're working in the offices of the CEO's who are in my pocket, the legislature, the Judges. Hell, I even have a few working their way through the ranks of the NYPD."

That had been something he'd suspected but that was the first time he had confirmation that the mafia had soldiers in the police department, not to mention the number of corrupt cops on the payroll. He took a sip of the scotch as he thought more about that and wondered who they were.

For all he knew, one of them could have been put on this task force operation by the bureau. And if that were the case, even if he found out who the cops were, he wouldn't know for sure what side they were on.

"Next week during Lucas's birthday party, Mikey will become a made man."

Bobby turned his head and looked out the window. Mikey was standing at the edge of the waterfall, saying something to the other two before doing a back-flip off it into the water. "I'll inform his father."

Mack gave a nod before turning away from the window and going back over to his desk. "Good. I know you'll make him accepting to this opportunity I'm giving his son."

Bobby glanced at his boss before returning his attention out the window where he watched as the boy's horse played around in the pool.

"Tomorrow," Mack said as he leaned back in the chair, "there's going to be a meeting at the brownstone. I won't be able to make it down; I'm flying out tonight for Florida."

"Whatever you want, I'll see to it that it happens."

Mack pulled out a cigar and lit it as he waited to tell him what that was. "The meeting's with the Irish."

"Quint dropped by yesterday with Rick," he told Mack. "I had already left so I didn't get to see what they wanted."

"They'll be there tomorrow, along with Connolly and a few others." Mack took a few puffs off the cigar before leaning on the desk. "We've been at peace with the Irish for twenty years, Bob. There hasn't been a war between us since the late eighties. Part of that is due to my family connections. The other is because no one wants a war so we work at delegating, compromising, and cutting deals."

Bobby shifted in his seat as his mind was already working out what Mack was going to tell him.

"I'm in the finalizing stages of a multi-million dollar arrangement with C.F.I Properties. However, the Irish are putting up a resistance. I need them to agree."

Bobby gave a nod, telling him, "I'll make them understand."

"Good, because if you can't…" Mack shifted his eyes up to his and the cold glare actually frightened him. "I'm afraid our twenty years of peace will be broken."

He sat stunned for a moment before asking, "You're going to start a war."

"Only if they don't agree." Then he ordered him, "Make them agree."

All he could do was give a nod and pray that he could actually do it. Going to war with the Irish, if it happened, wasn't going to be pretty. It was going to be bloody and costly, and it could ultimately change everything. He didn't know why the Irish was fighting a multi-million dollar deal, unless it was because it didn't involve them, but he was going to try and work something out.

"We're done here. Go, have fun."

Bobby finished off his drink then thanked Mack before excusing himself as he left the office.

Once outside, he tugged off his black t-shirt and tossed it on a lounge chair. It wasn't until he looked over at the chair that he realized Brenda, Mack's wife, had come out to lounge in the sun. Underneath his black dress pants, he was wearing his swim shorts, having prepared to go swimming, and so he slipped out of his shoes before taking his pants off.

He knew Brenda was watching him; that woman had a thing for him and every chance she got, she tried to get him to have an affair with her. Even after rejecting her advances, she continued to flirt with him. She was relentless but she wasn't vicious; she had yet to create any trouble for him in trying to get his attention. Thankfully.

Brenda's relationship with her husband was anything but romantic and loving. Bobby knew that Mack cheated on her, as she did to him. He knew that Mack was sometimes violent towards her, abusive both verbally and physically, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Brenda would never press charges. According to Mack, she was there for one reason only and that was to have and care for his children; the fact that she was as stunningly beautiful as a model was another reason. She was his 'trophy wife'; some beautiful woman on his arm for when he went to functions and parties.

Other than that, Mack didn't care about the woman. The mob boss loved what she brought to him and did for his reputation. But then again, Bobby could say the same for Brenda herself. That woman loved the money, her access to Mack's private jet, his connections, and the fact she could have anything she wanted when she wanted it. They didn't love each other at all; they loved what each other had, nothing more and nothing less.

So when that she-devil set her eyes on him, Bobby ran as fast as he could away from her. Too bad he couldn't really stay away from her forever. When she had went to Italy for a year, that had been the best year of his life because he didn't have to deal with her advances. Or with her calls in the middle of the night for 'advice' or 'just to talk'.

"When are you going to stop putting those things on your body? Pretty soon, I won't be able to see that beautiful white skin of yours."

Bobby glanced over at the woman as he started for the diving board. "It's comments like that which make me want to get another one," he told her as he slipped on his sunglasses.

Brenda gave him a disgusted sour look which caused him to smile more.

He loved getting under her skin. He loved it even more that he was turning her off.

The tattoos he had were all real, no fakes, and he loved every one of them; well, except for the one he pointed out to Agent Barek yesterday. The only reason he got the clock with no hands tattoo was because his cellmate told him that it would be best if he did. It was a prison thing. Not wanting to dis his cellmate, or get into some confrontation with the other inmates, he had let Fin tat it on his arm. He wasn't sure if that was the man's actual name or not, but that was what everyone called the guy.

The other tattoos he'd gotten at various times throughout his life. At sixteen, he had the logo of the New York Yankees tattooed on his left calf muscle; it was his first. Many of them came from his time in the Army, and only a few he had gotten since then. He had never thought that he would be good at doing it himself until Fin taught him; since then, he started to give them to other people as a hobby.

Every member of his crew had received a tattoo from him and many of them had come back to get a few more because they liked his work, and because he never asked for payment. For the more complicated stuff, like portraits, he referred them to a buddy of his who had a parlor in Coney Island. Objects, writings, symbols and animals he could do, but for some reason he had no talent for drawing people.

Taking a running start, he jumped on the edge of the diving board and did a front flip into a perfect dive into the pool that caused a burst of cheers from the guys at the other end. Breaking the surface of the water, he swam down to them and jumped on Eric's back, taking the teen under the water.

After a couple minutes of roughhousing, Bobby got them into a game of basketball. That was when he heard a voice coming from the side of the pool. Looking over, he saw Lucas running toward him.

The three-year-old boy had on his swimming shorts and a huge smile as he yelled out, "Un'le Bobby! Un'le Bobby!"

He had to catch the boy as he jumped off the edge of the pool into his arms. Bobby dropped back, taking the little boy under with him, before tossing him out of the water and into the air before catching him again. Lucas was all laughs and smiles as he played with him in the pool, something he knew Mack never did with the boy.

"Lucas is on my team," Bobby announced as he handed the ball to the boy and held him up so he could dunk it through the hoop.

TBC…


	5. The Sound of Bombs Dropping

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>There were only thirteen members to his crew, not the usual twenty, because seven had been arrested over the course of eleven months. All thanks to him. Ten of the members left standing had arrived by nine that morning; the three who had yet to arrive were the Ricci brothers. Some of the guys immediately went upstairs to the section of the brownstone that Mack owned, while others came down to his place to talk and have coffee.<p>

Al Bracco and Sonny Orlando were supposed to be getting there around eleven, and the Irish not until noon. Demarco would be there as well but he had yet to arrive. The underboss didn't like him much since he basically beat him out as his brother's favorite. Also the fact that Mack chose a non-relative as his most trusted right-hand had ticked Demarco off. Bobby always liked to know where Demarco was and what he was thinking because he wouldn't be surprised if the bitter brother didn't try something against him out of jealously and/or fear.

He had invited the crew over early to handle some business before sending half, if not all of them, away. Both Bracco and Orlando would have their own guards with them, and he had himself, but he might keep a few of his guys there just in case. Bobby wasn't expecting anything to happen, but he also didn't want everyone to be in one place at one time.

The man he really wanted to talk to was Mike Ricci Sr, Mikey's father. He didn't know how he was going to tell the father that Mack wanted his sixteen year old son to become one of his soldiers; all he knew was that the man wasn't going to take the news well.

Opening his cell phone, Bobby tried again to call a man he hadn't been able to get in contact with since Wednesday. That man was Jeffery Anthony, one of their bookies and the cook at the club.

Jeff had talked to Maggie about having the weekend off with no explanation as to why. That was unacceptable. It was also unacceptable that the money from Jeff's half of their bookmaking wasn't being turned in. Sal, Jeff's cousin, had answered his phone and told him that he hadn't heard from Jeff since Wednesday morning; Sal also told him that he had his half of the money made off his bets ready to deliver.

There was a knock at the front door and he saw Tony answer it. Mike, along with his brothers, come in and holding up the rear was Sal.

The ringing on the other end of the phone stopped as the answering machine picked up telling him to leave a message. Bobby, being surrounded by his soldiers and him being the boss, couldn't let Jeff make a fool of him. So, once he heard the beep to leave a message, he went off. His booming voice quieted the chattering and no one spoke as he told Jeff exactly what he would do to him if he kept avoiding his calls.

Sal paled considerably since he was part of his death threat.

Bobby ended the call, tossed the phone on the table as he leveled Sal with a death glare while stalking over to him. "Where's your cousin?"

"I don't-" Sal didn't get to say the rest as Bobby hit him in the throat. Sal stumbled back into the coffee table as he gasped for air.

Bobby grabbed him up by his coat, bring the stocky man off the floor, as he spoke to him in a low and deadly voice. "I don't want to hear 'I don't know', Sal. I want you to tell me that you'll do whatever you have to do in order to find your worthless cousin, because if you don't find him I'll have George break your legs. Then when _I_ find Jeff, I'll kill him. You got that?"

Sal could only nod as he struggled to breathe. Bobby glared into the man's eyes one last time before dropping him. Sal stumbled back and fell on his ass against the table.

"Go find him," he ordered Sal before looking around at the other men. "Lou, George, go with him." No one said a word as all three men quickly left the apartment. Bobby sought out Mike, telling him, "Senior, I want you to stay. Vinni, Jonny, Billy, and Frank, get back to work. He'll catch up later."

"Whatever you say, boss man," Frank told him as he passed by out the door.

"Where's Jason?" he asked as he looked around.

Jason, the bouncer at the club, raised his hand from inside the kitchen. "Back here, boss."

"Take Tony and Nicholas back to the club with you," he ordered. "I'll catch up with you guys later." After the three men left, Bobby looked around at everyone else and counted three more left: Rob, Liberty, and Jeremiah. "The three of you will stay for the meeting. It'll be upstairs at noon," he said as he checked his watch. It was going on ten o'clock. "You might as well head up there now, take the back staircase."

As the remaining three men went through his kitchen and out into the hallway that led to the back staircase, which led up to the second floor and straight into Mack's kitchen, Bobby hung back with Mike and told him to wait for him in the dining room.

The father looked worried as he headed down the short hall and pushed open the swinging door that led into the room He hardly ever used the dining room except to conduct business, or when he treated one of the girls he brought home to dinner. It surprised him how most of them had never been treated to a simple thing as dinner; unless of course it led to sex.

He treated most of them to a home cooked meal and wine in front of the fireplace that was in the dining room; they ate while they talked, and not just about what he could do to help get them off the street and onto a better life, but about her life and her goals. Why she was on the street to begin with. Some of the girls would never open up to him, but he had gotten a lot of them into therapy thanks to the church.

Going into the kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of scotch and two glasses before joining Mike. As he pushed open the door, he saw him to his right, leaning against the fireplace and running his hand through his hair.

Straightening at his presence, Mike immediately started to apologize, "Mr. Donovan, whatever I did-"

"Senior," he said as he pointed to a chair. "Have a seat, okay. Relax, you didn't do anything wrong."

That confused the man even more as he did as he was told. Bobby took a chair next to him and then filled the glasses. Passing one over, he watched as Mike downed half the glass in one go. Taking a sip of his own, he tried to figure out the best way to tell this man, this dad, that Mack wanted to own one of his sons. As of now, both Chris and Mikey Jr. were relatively safe; as safe as one could be whose father was a soldier for the mafia. Granted, the two teens drove him around and would run errands, but Bobby was in charge of them and he never demanded that they stayed. He didn't own anyone who wasn't a made man.

In fact, the money he had been paying Chris since the kid was sixteen was going towards his college tuition, which started in August. Now with Mikey Jr. being his driver, he had been planning on doing the same for him. He was going to pay him for two years for driving him around so the kid would have enough money for college when he turned eighteen. Mike couldn't afford to send them both to college plus support his wife and their twin seven year old girls.

What he had to do just then was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. He took another sip of the drink then cleared his throat, saying, "Uh, something came up yesterday. You, uh…you know I took them to Port Chester, right?"

Mike gave a nod as he tried to look as calm as possible. The man had no idea what was coming.

"Well, uh…" he rubbed at his mouth as he tried to phrase it all right in his head. "See, the thing is that Mack, he's short on people so he's making a few changes."

"Because of that raid a while back," Mike confirmed as if he was suddenly back under control and no longer concerned. Bobby could hear the uncertainty.

"Right, so there are now openings for, uh…advancement. He wants to have one of your sons made," Bobby finally said with a deep breath.

Mike sat still for a very long moment and Bobby wasn't sure if the guy in shock or what but he wasn't blinking. Finally, he blinked and asked, "One of my boys?"

With a nod, he told him, "Yeah."

"No," Mike sternly said as he shook his head. "No, not Chris, Bobby, please. He's starting college in two months. You promised me that he would be out-"

Bobby held up his hands, trying calm the guy before telling him, "It's not Chris."

And that was when the man crumbled as his face fell and Bobby knew that so did his heart. Mike was out of the chair, his hand covering his mouth as he fought to keep himself under control. "Mikey?" he asked in disbelief. "He's just a kid, only sixteen!"

Normally, he would never let one of his soldiers yell or act like in his home, but Bobby knew when it was time to draw his line as boss and when it was time to be a friend. And right then, the father needed a friend.

Getting up, he took Mike by the shoulder and steered him back to the chair where he sat him down. Bobby poured them both another drink which Mike gulped down just as quickly as the first.

"How can he do this?" Mike softly spoke, mostly to himself, before turning to him. "My son, a soldier for Vincennes. Jesus, Bobby, he's never even held a gun before. I've refused to let either of them see what I do, the violence I have to endure every damn day, and…" he shook his head, closing his eyes, and then said, "He's never going to get out of this neighborhood now. My God, his life will be ruined."

"Listen to me, Senior," Bobby said as he leaned sideways into the guy. Once he was looking him in the eye, he told him, "I know what I promised you, and I'm a man of my word. The only good thing about this is that I'll be his capo, okay. He'll be under my command, not Mack's. I'm keeping Mikey as my driver. I'll pay him just the same and in two years he will follow in Chris's footsteps and get the fuck out of here. I will not make him stay unless he decides for himself that he wants to stay. If Mack has a problem with that, then he'll take it up with me. There will be no fallout for you or your family."

The sudden change in the man was nearly unbelievably frightening. These men truly did trust not only their lives to him but their families as well. In a matter of seconds, Mike Sr. went from totally freaking out to accepting his word. The father finally let out a breath and gave nod. "Okay, boss. I trust you," he said as he leaned back in the chair. "When will it be?"

"Next week, during Lucas's birthday party."

"Jeez," he breathed out. "A week until he's made."

Bobby felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that it was Steve calling. "I gotta take this. Finish up, have another drink if you want and then meet up with your brothers."

Mike nodded again as he pulled the bottle to him and refilled his third glass. "Don't worry, boss, I'm not driving."

Bobby smirked as he got up and left the room as he answered his phone, "We gotta talk."

It was silent on the other line for a second before he heard Steve's voice. "What time?"

"Now," Bobby told him before he flipped his phone shut. Pushing the door back open, he told Mike, "I'm leaving, so take the backstairs up to Mack's when you leave. Once I lock my door, the alarm will set."

"Okay, boss, no problem."

The air of defeat in the father's voice sent an ache in his heart. Bobby watched as he downed the drink while staring off at the opposite wall before closing the door. Despite the fact that he was a soldier for a crime family, Mike tried to be a good dad to his kids.

A hell of a lot better than his old man.

* * *

><p>The heat rolling off the rooftop reminded him of the desert. Being almost midday, the sun was beating down on him as he leaned over the side of the building watching the traffic and people ten stories below. Turning his eyes away from the street, he looked out toward the bridge that led into Manhattan and the skyline beyond. Most notably, he took in the twin towers of the World Trade Center. He loved that view.<p>

"That's one hell of a sight. Beautiful."

Bobby nodded as Steve stepped up beside him. "One of the reasons why I don't live in Manhattan, I can't see the skyline of the city while I'm in it."

"Yeah, well, I'll take Columbus Circle over anywhere in Brooklyn," Steve said as he leaned against the side of the wall next to him and looked down. "Wanna propel down? I've got gear in the back of my Ranger for when I train with S.W.A.T.."

Chuckling, Bobby looked over the edge and felt the thrill of doing just that. He hadn't propelled down anything this high since…

"Your last time was in the academy, right?"

"What can I say, I've been too busy doing other things," Bobby said as he took out a cigarette and offered it to his friend before pulling out one for himself. He watched as Steve turned all the way around, leaning his back against the wall as he took a long drag off the smoke. Deciding to jump to the chase of why they were there, he asked, "How come Agent Barek doesn't know about me?"

"Ah, Christ," Steve groaned as he stuck the smoke back in his mouth. "You ever hear of the word confidential?"

"She's my contact," he stressed as he leaned back over the edge and looked out at the skyline of Manhattan. "Besides you, she's my only link to the bureau and I think it's important for her to _not_ think I'm nothing but a C.I. trying to save my ass from more prison time."

"I hear you, man. I do, okay. It's just…" Steve turned around and leaned beside him; looking in his eyes, he told him, "There's a leak; we don't know who but believe me when I tell you that Agent Barek doesn't know about you for a reason."

"If she's the leak, you would've never put her on me."

Steve smiled at that. "You're still as sharp as ever. You're right, we know it's not her, but then again we have no idea who it is. We don't want information about our undercover agents getting out and the best way to do that is limit the number of people who know."

"How many people know about me?" Bobby asked as he dreaded the answer.

"Besides me, one. And I'm not talking about Gage."

Bobby breathed out as he felt his gut twist. "So, let me get this straight. If you die, and so does the other guy, no one will know who I am?"

Steve frowned slightly with a look of regret on his face. "Well, not exactly. You remember your codename, right? All you gotta do is tell the FBI your codename to confirm your identity. You're the only one with that specific name; once it's typed into a computer, your personnel file comes right up. It has everything."

He still didn't like it, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. The codename he had been given to confirm proof of his true identity had been given to him nine years ago. Of course he still remembered what it was, but he didn't like the fact that only two people in the entire Federal Bureau of Investigation knew who he truly was.

"Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

Bobby took a puff off the smoke before saying, "I don't want to go into witness protection once this is all over."

"That's not up to you."

"It's my life. You guys can put me right back undercover somewhere else or let me work in a field office somewhere in Alaska, but changing my name and working on engines isn't my idea of happy-ever-after."

Steve let out a sigh as he thought that over. He knew he was asking a lot because it was highly dangerous for him to keep his name and job after being undercover for eight years. There were a lot of people who knew him and the mafia had people everywhere.

Finally, Steve shook his head, saying, "You always have to make everything so much harder on yourself." Looking at him, he agreed, "Fine. Once this is all settled, and you're not dead, I'll see what I can do."

"I better not be dead," Bobby said as he glared at the agent.

"Oh don't worry, you're still very much alive. Anything else? What's going on today?"

Bobby shrugged as he said, "Another day, another mob war."

"A war?" Steve asked in surprised. "When did this happen?"

"It hasn't. Not yet anyway." Bobby then went on to tell him about the meeting with Irish and the C.F.I. Properties deal that Mack had going.

"So, if the Irish don't agree, the Italians are going to start a war."

"That's what Mack said," Bobby confirmed as he finished the cigarette and put the butt out on the wall. "Sometimes I think an agreement would be best, other times I think maybe a war would be better, you know. It'll create an opportunity to take this down a lot quicker if we all start killing each other."

Steve was quiet for a moment before coming to a decision. Turning to him, he said, "Go to war."

Staring at the agent, and his friend, he asked, "What?"

"Bobby, a war would be the best thing for this operation."

"Best for who? I was talking shit, Steve. I don't want to go to war with the Irish, or anyone else."

Steve had his cell phone out as he went to make a call. "It'll be best for _you_ if you did."

"Me?" he asked, still stunned and frightened by this sudden turn. Bobby listened as Steve got a hold of someone higher up in the FBI. Steve walked away and lowered his voice so he couldn't hear what was said before ending the call and coming back over to him.

"Yes, you," Steve told him as he stuffed the phone in his pocket. "You said it yourself, you don't want witness protection. Okay, you want get it. Instead, we'll put you in a position to come out as head of the Giaccone family."

"Head of the-What're you talking about," Bobby snapped. "I'm not a mobster, I'm a fucking FBI agent! I'm not-I don't want to keep being Donovan, and I sure as hell don't want to be head of the family! I-I…" he started to feel sick as he paced around before doubling over. "Ah, fuck."

"Bobby," Steve said as he leaned down beside him. "Agent Goren, look at me."

He didn't want to but Bobby looked over at Steve as he fought the urge to get sick.

"Think about it. If we can put you at the head of the family, think of how influential you'll be. Think of all the agents you can get to infiltrate the mafia. After a few years, you could have every position filled with undercover agents and cops ready to take down the entire structure from within. It'll be the biggest organized crime operation in history. An entire family of officers taking out all the others until there's nothing left. Until all the families fall, or take off to fucking Mexico. The mafia would never be strong again. They would never reign over New York again."

Bobby straightened and took in a breath as he started to pace again. Pulling out another cigarette, he stuck it in his mouth as he thought that over.

"You remember what Gage always said, about great officers?"

Bobby stopped pacing as he stared at his friend of nearly sixteen years. The only friend he had left since going undercover. "He said that, uh…The greatest officers he knew had the soul, the mind, of a criminal. It was because they could think like a criminal, understand them, that made them the greatest."

"The FBI didn't give you your name or your history, Bobby; it was already there, it's who you are. Whether you want to be him or not, you _are_ Donovan. And because of that, you are the greatest officer I have ever known."

It was true; his life history that was told and rumored around the neighborhoods about his family, about getting adopted by Patrick Donovan, running the streets with Mickey, and then working a little for the Irish mob before joining the Army. All of it was true.

Joining the Army was when it all changed. That was when he had met Steve and Declan and got interested in law enforcement.

On the street, as his cover story, he had gotten dishonorably discharge and shortly after returning home got into trouble and sent to prison. The true story was that he got honorably discharge, even earning a Purple Heart, and went straight to the FBI academy in Virginia along with Steve. They had graduated together and became agents with the Organized Crime Unit; he had gone undercover while Steve had been assigned as his contact agent.

For the first year, before he took to the streets for his undercover job, they actually did put him in prison. He spent a year in Rikers making a name for himself, gaining trusts, learning names and getting contacts, and putting truth to his cover story. His reason for not being in general population before, the cover story he was told to use, was that he had been transferred from Sing-Sing where he'd been serving his time between solitary confinement and the psych ward.

No one questioned him about his sanity, or lack thereof, after a few things he had not only said but done while at Rikers. His reputation for being a little crazy also kept him out of a lot of fights. He never had to kill anyone while in prison, but left a few inmates wishing that they were dead before he left that place.

So, when Steve told him that it wasn't a cover, that he was Donovan, Bobby knew that he had to face the reality that Steve was right. There was a reason why the FBI chose him to be the agent who went undercover in the mafia while Steve stayed in the office.

He did have the mind of a criminal, and between his mother and his father, maybe he even had the blood for it. Eight years of this chaos, of living as a mobster, and he had yet to throw in the towel proved his point.

He still believed that if he hadn't met Steve or Declan, he would have probably ended up right back here anyway; however, instead of Steve being his friend and colleague, he would have been his enemy.

"What're you going to do, Goren?" Steve asked, breaking through his thoughts as he continued to look out over the city. "For your country, for your city…hell, for yourself, what're you going to do?"

God, help him. Bobby closed his eyes as he felt the decision being made. Swallowing hard, he told him, "I guess I'll start a war."

Steve's bravado slipped briefly as he stepped over to him. He took him by surprise as he grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry. I promised you a long time ago to get you in and out of this as quickly as I could."

"Not your fault. It's the job, right?" Bobby said as he patted his friend on the back before pulling away. Then with a shove, he told him, "Just don't get me killed."

"That's my number one goal every single day: saving your ass."

Bobby felt himself smile as he started to walk away, "And I'm grateful for that. See you around."

"And next time, can we please meet somewhere else? This roof sucks in the summer time."

Bobby just laughed as he pushed the door open and headed down the staircase.

* * *

><p>At that moment, he felt like the head of the Italian mafia family. He was in Mack's office at the brownstone, seated behind Mack's desk with two of his soldiers, Jeremiah and Rob, flanked on both sides of him like guard dogs ready to attack. Guarding the door to the office was Liberty Valentino.<p>

Al Bracco and Sonny Orlando were seated in front of the desk in two chairs on his right while Liem Connolly, the head of the Irish family, sat directly in front of him. To his left in front of the desk were Rick Jameson and Sean Quint. Standing directly behind Liem was his bodyguard Henry Greene.

Then, in the very back of the room and leaning against the wall in the far stood Joey 'The Ripper' Sullivan. Or the Yankee Clipper as he liked to refer to the guy in his head because he knew if he said that out loud…well, things wouldn't be pleasant.

It wasn't the fact that Yankee Clipper was the nickname for Joe DiMaggio, an Italian baseball player who played for the Yankees from 1931 to 1951, and Joey was Irish. It was the fact that he had a feeling that the Irish hit-man was a Red Socks fan.

Joey looked a little younger than him with the same type of build, big and broad, but Joey was two inches shorter than he was with dark red hair and bright blue eyes. He didn't look all that bad though; Joey had that perfect 'boy next door' look going for him. The hit-man was clean shaven, dressed causally with no tattoos, and his teeth were perfectly aligned. The Irish hit-man was everything he wasn't and Bobby definitely hated the guy.

Especially those blue eyes, because they seemed to follow him everywhere.

Bobby knew the hit-man considered him to be his biggest enemy, but also his biggest competition. Joey was fascinated with him, and not in a good way as the guy tried to one-up him with every hit he preformed. That's what the guy considered killing another human being to be: a performance.

The Ripper was a sick man, and he couldn't wait to take him down. More so than he did any of the others. The day he saw Joey Sullivan behind bars or six feet under would be the happiest day of his life.

As he thought about that, Rob leaned down and spoke quietly in his ear. "Sir, everyone's here."

Bobby stopped staring at the hit-man as he glanced around at everyone else in the room. Taking a long drag off the cigarette in his hand, he uncrossed his legs at the ankle as he sat forward. He put the cigarette in the ashtray as he leaned on the desk, looking directly at Liem Connolly, and then smiled.

The Irish mob boss looked like he just got in from Ireland. He was paler than he was with short white-blond hair, skinny as hell, and his dark eyes bore right into his as he smiled back.

"On behalf of my boss, Mr. Vincennes, I want to thank all of you for coming. Unfortunately, he couldn't be here today."

"C'mon off it, boyo, enough of the pleasantries. Where's your boss?" Liem interrupted him to ask.

Liem even had a thick Irish accent. Bobby kept smiling as he told the mob boss, "He's conducting business elsewhere. Other than that, I can't tell you."

"This other business is more important than what's going on here, I take it," Liem said as he gestured around. "From my understanding, this deal your boss wants me to agree on is worth millions…and yet, he can't be here. It's apparent to me, laddie, that your boss doesn't care, so why should I? Why should I sit here and discuss anything with you?"

It was clear to him that this meeting was going to end on a bad note, so Bobby did the most unexpected move he could think of. He stood.

That one move caused people to jump and hands to go for guns but he paid no attention to who was drawing down on whom as he stepped around the desk. He wasn't surprised that Liem didn't move, neither did anyone else sitting down except for Rick who tried to step in front of him. It took one shove to send the young guy back down in the chair before he was standing in front of the Irish mob boss.

Liem refused to look up at him, to become the inferior one, as he kept his eyes forward, That was okay; he didn't care if the man looked at him or not.

Leaning down, Bobby came eye-to-eye with the man who he spoke softly and directly to. "First off, Mr. Connolly, sir, I'm not your _boy_, so I'll appreciate it if you stop referring to me as one. Secondly, you're right. You are absolutely correct. My boss doesn't care enough to be here talking to a fucking Irish jack-off like yourself. He tried to reason with you for weeks over this deal, and you're the one who's refusing to have a piece of a multi-million dollar development. You are the one risking a war because you're having trouble realizing that you have no other choice but to agree. This is a take it or be taken out kind-of deal, sir. Are you willing to risk the deaths of your men, the collapse of everything you've built, not only with us but for yourself, over the past twenty years because you refuse to answer a simple yes or no question?"

It was then that the mob boss glared up at him and he could see the rage growing in those dark eyes. If Steve wanted a war, he got one. There was no mob boss that would stand for being talked down to and berated like he had just done to the Irish boss. Yes, his reasoning was solid, but he could've done without the jack-off comment, or making the boss look like an incompetent fool in front of not only the Italians but his own men.

Bobby had to stepped back as Liem got to his feet and stared him down. Any normal man would have taken off, or coward down and apologize, he just stood his ground and glared right back.

"Fuck you, and fuck the Italians," Liem suddenly told him before leaving the room with his henchmen right on his heels.

The last to leave was Joey, and the look he gave him made him smile even more. It was a look that said 'You're mine'. Before Joey looked away, Bobby gave him a look of his own, telling him to bring it on.

After the door closed, he picked up his cigarette out of the ashtray and took a drag off it as he heard Jeremiah ask, "What was that, boss?"

Blowing out a breath of smoke, Bobby told him, "That…was the sound of bombs dropping."

Bracco sighed as he looked over at Sonny and then at him, asking, "What'd you want us to do, Bobby?"

"Shouldn't you be asking me that?" Demarco said from where he had been sitting against the side wall. Everyone looked at him but didn't say a word, which caused him to get even angrier. "I'm the underboss, not him," he yelled as he pointed to him.

Bobby stepped right up to Mack's brother and said, "I don't have to be the underboss to be the one in charge."

"Or the one to screw this up," Demarco said as he shoved a finger into his chest.

"Do that again and you won't be able to use that finger again."

Shoving him again, Demarco went to speak when Bobby grabbed it. The sound of the finger breaking was lost as the underboss wailed a high-pitch scream. As Demarco hit his knees, he kept hold of the finger that was bent back in his hand while telling the others, "We all heard; Liem Connolly had no intentions of agreeing. He just wanted to make a show, and to use this as an excuse to go to war. What do I want you to do?"

Everyone looked to him as he twisted the finger sideways, breaking it in three different places before letting go. Demarco cradled his hand to his chest as he scrambled to his feet and glared at him. "You crazy-I'll kill you for this!"

Ignoring the raging man, Bobby said with a slight smile, "I want you to prepare to take out the Irish. Every last one. As to the specifics, once I talk to Mack, I'll let you know more." Looking around, he saw no objections as he gave a nod, silently telling them all that they could leave.

When Demarco was the only man left in the room, Bobby stared the man down as he stepped up to him. "You may be the underboss, but to these men you're nobody. I know that, they know that…Mack knows that. The sooner you know that, the better off we'll be. Now, go get yourself fixed up while I call your brother. He's waiting to learn if it's safe or not to come back home. I have to tell him it's not. Or, do you want to be the one to tell him that?"

Demarco looked at him as he stepped back and then headed out of the room.

Bobby waited until he was alone in the office to close his eyes and let out a deep breath. Going behind the desk, he sat back down in Mack's chair and picked up the phone.

* * *

><p>Alex had arrived promptly five minutes before six o'clock that night at the club. Maggie was in at the bar setting up while the kid Eric, who she believed wasn't even old enough to work in the club, was setting the lighting. There were strippers on the stage already practicing and going through routines before the club officially opened at seven.<p>

"Alex, you made it!" Maggie exclaimed as she spotted her coming in. "Hey, do me a favor." She got two beers out of the cooler and handed them to her. "These are for Jason and Nick, they're in the security office."

Once she was shown the way, she made her way up the metal staircase to the second floor to the security office. Knocking on the door, it opened to reveal, Jason along with a guy she recently discovered to be Nicholas Vincennes, Mack's nephew, were in the security room going over surveillance video. Handing the men the beers, she noticed that Jason was on the phone talking to someone.

That was when she looked up and saw the person on the video out in the back parking lot. It was Bobby Donovan, and he was holding a cell phone up to his ear.

"Yeah, boss," Jason was saying into the phone. "It captures the whole lot…Very clear, like watchin' a movie." Bobby flipped the camera off and he laughed, saying, "Hey, I saw that. Alright, boss." He hung up the phone and Alex saw Bobby walk under the camera and disappeared.

Leaving the security office, she started to head back down to the main floor when she saw a figure emerge from the shadows of the hallway. Bobby walked up to the bar and spoke to Maggie before turning to come up the steps.

Alex nearly froze but then reminded herself that she was supposed to be there. She was the new cook until Jeff got back. Acting as calmly as possible, she continued toward the steps just as Bobby got to the top. He stopped immediately as her presence in front of him, confused and slightly shocked.

"Hi," she got out as he looked too stunned to speak.

Bobby finally smiled slightly as he said, "Hi. Uh, what're you…?"

"Maggie said that you wouldn't mind; she offered and you were short on people so I said okay."

He looked her over and then that was when his brain seemed to wake up because he stepped back, saying, "Oh, she hired you as a cook since Jeff went missing."

Alex didn't know what to think of that as she asked, "I thought he took a vacation?"

Bobby was rubbing at his head as he stepped around her, telling her, "According to him, he's on vacation, but as far as I'm concerned…he's missing." He stopped walking and turned back to her. "Are you okay? Maggie give you a locker and-"

"I'm fine and Maggie's been a big help."

Giving her one last look of consideration, Bobby only nodded before opening the door to the security office.

That was the last she saw of him until later that night.

It was going on midnight and the place was packed. She was actually surprised with the amount of people there but shouldn't have been. There were a lot of lonely and perverted men in Brooklyn. Alex leaned against the entryway to the kitchen as she watched the dancer on stage bare all except for three certain spots as the men whistled and paid her more money. The girl was good; she was going to clean out these guys wallets by the end of the night.

Carolyn had called a few minutes ago, letting her know she was on almost there. She hadn't seen the agent all day and wondered why it was taking her until midnight to get to the club.

Bobby was still MIA and she was surprised to realize that what everyone had said about him so far was true. That man was like a ghost, and what happened on the stage of that strip joint made him uncomfortable.

Then, she saw him coming out of another office up above the main floor as he made his way down to the main floor for the first time that night. She wondered where he was going until he lead Jason along with an unruly man out the backdoor. Beat-down time, she thought as the door shut behind the Brooklyn capo.

"Gentlemen, and ladies, please welcome our newest member to the stage…Lay-La."

Alex rolled her eyes but watched as the young looking girl came charging down that stage like she owned it to the music of the classic Clapton song. Toward the end of the song was when Bobby came back in with Jason not far behind. The unruly man was nowhere to be seen but the two looked calm and collected as if nothing had happened out there. She was wondering if any of it was caught on the surveillance footage when she saw Carolyn turning the corner.

She wasn't kidding about not wearing the wig, but she was dressed in a short black sleeve-less dress like she was ready to hit the town. And hit it hard as she came walking over to the bar and ordered a martini dry.

Going over to the agent, she tried to keep the smirk off her face but it wasn't working. "Oh, like that's not going to draw attention."

"I know it is, that's why I wore it. So," she said as she looked around. "this is actually a pretty decent place. It's very nice."

"Been to many strip clubs?"

"I've seen a few. At least this one has clean floors and a wide range of alcohol. Music's not bad either." Carolyn looked over at the DJ who played songs in-between the dance numbers. "I know that guy."

Alex looked over at the DJ and spotted someone else over that way. He was leaning against the wall near the back of the stage and he was watching them. Well, not exactly them, but Carolyn. All day, she had wanted to talk to Carolyn about what she had seen last night between her and Bobby, but since this was the first time she had seen the agent, she still didn't know what was going on.

Because she was facing that way, she watched as Bobby uncrossed his arms and headed their way. "Carolyn?"

"Yeah?"

"Just out of curiosity, does Bobby know that you're not truly a blond, or that your name isn't Medea?" Alex asked and those questions were ones she wanted to hear the agents answers to.

Carolyn looked confused for a moment before she turned and saw the man in question step up to the bar.

He glanced to her before setting his sights back on Carolyn as he leaned against the bar. Bobby gave Carolyn the once over too but it was nothing like he had given her when they met on the stairs. His look was teasing in a way, but his interest in Carolyn wearing that dress was serious. "So," he said once he looked away from the agent. "You two know each other, right?" He pointed to the both of them then criss-crossed his arms back-and-forth between the two of them. "Lexus, Medea…Alex and Carolyn."

Alex filled a glass of whiskey for a customer, helping Maggie out since no one was ordering food, as she said, "It's only men I lie to about my name."

"Yeah," Carolyn said as she playing smacked the mob hit-man. Alex didn't know where she got the courage to do a thing like that because she wouldn't have dared. "Who want's to tell some sleazy john your real name? That's the last thing I want to hear coming out of their mouths," she told Bobby before taking a sip of the martini.

Bobby didn't seem to mind the playfulness coming from Carolyn as he smiled at her. "I guess that would be, uh…difficult to deal with. So, you two pillow-talk on the street?" he asked as he looked at her.

"No, we pillow-talk at home. We're roommates," Carolyn told him and Alex nearly smacked her for that. Now she told the psychopath that they lived together.

They really needed to have a talk because it seemed to her that she wasn't the least bit concerned that Bobby Donovan knew that information. He did look surprised by that as he looked to Carolyn for a further explanation. She just shrugged, saying, "She needed a place to stay and I need the extra help to pay rent."

"Oh," Bobby suddenly said that like it actually mattered to him. "That's good, then. I'm glad you're getting some help…making friends." He had spoken that last part to her, and Alex actually would have thought he meant it if she didn't know him better.

She swore if she woke up with that man standing over her bed, she'd kill someone, probably him and then Carolyn.

Carolyn used her index finger to indicate for Bobby to bend down closer to her. Once he did, she spoke quietly into his ear.

The nearly tolerable creep that Bobby had been when she just thought he was a lonely man looking for company was quickly shattered when Alex learned who he truly was. Donovan was a crazy hit-man for the Italian mob. He was a ruthless, coldhearted killer and she was hell bent on taking the guy down even if Carolyn had become blinded.

"Carolyn?"

She turned away from talking to Bobby to look at her.

"Can we talk for a minute, in private?"

"Oh, sure." As Carolyn slid off the stool, she told Bobby, "I'll be back."

Bobby didn't say anything as he watched them walk away and she was certain his eyes were on Carolyn's backside.

Once in the kitchen, Alex turned to the agent and said, "What the hell?"

Looking over her shoulder, Carolyn grabbed her by the arm and pulled her even further into the kitchen, almost to the locker room, before releasing her. "Calm down."

"Calm down? You just told the guy we're supposed to be after that we live together. Now he knows that where he'll find you, he'll find me."

Carolyn crossed her arms as she told her, "Of course I did, he already knew he was just seeing if I would lie to him in front of you." Alex went to speak when she continued, "I'm sorry, Alex, I should have told you everything yesterday but I had no idea it was going to get this complicated this early." Taking a breath, she told her, "My assignment changed today. I was brought into a meeting with my boss, Agent Norton…You've met the guy, right?"

How could she forget? "I've met him. He knew I was married but he still flirted with me anyway."

"Yep, that's Norton all right. Anyway, he pulled me in and told me that my assignment changed as of now. He put me completely undercover and wants me to get close to Donovan."

"How close, because it seemed to me that you were trying to wrap him around you're little finger?" Then she saw the look on Carolyn's face and that was when she knew her earlier assumption had been right. "You have to become his girlfriend."

Carolyn shrugged like it was nothing as she said, "Someone had to do it and you're married. The FBI can be demanding of their agents, but they weren't going to demand that a married NYPD cop cheat on her husband for this operation. And besides, since you did get a job here, your main focus is now this club and the people in it. Bobby will start to let you in eventually. He's starting to finally trust me, talk to me, and you're my friend so he'll be more willing to open up to you because of that."

"And why are you not? Repulsed by the guy, I mean."

"You don't think I am?" Carolyn looked hurt by that suggestion. "Yeah, Donovan's scary as hell and the last thing I want to do is tick the guy off, but I know more about him. I've been talking to him for the last month trying to get this close. I know the guy has serious issues with women, especially when it comes to getting intimate, and that was the only reason I didn't hesitate to agree to do this. I wouldn't have been able to say yes if I thought he would try and force me to become intimate."

Alex had to steady her breathing as she listened to the agent. She knew that the FBI undercover work was more extensive than her own with NYPD. Carolyn had been doing this for a month, talking to Bobby on the street, having him take her home so she could get a feel for what the guy was like. Never has she had to became some killer's girlfriend, or actually act interested for longer than maybe a few minutes or hours before backup busted in for the arrest. This operation could take a month or more.

Plus, Carolyn was right. She would never cheat on Joe. She would quit the NYPD before they made her become unfaithful. There were many things she would do for the job, however, that wasn't one of them.

"And if he does try anything, I'll kill him," Carolyn said with a smirk.

Alex finally decided to let the agent do her job, and instead of fighting her or following her at night, that she was going to start helping her. It was the least she could do. The last thing she wanted was to cause the agent to not trust her. She could be professional about this. And even though Bobby did repulse her, part of her objective was to become the guy's friend so he would invite her into the inter-circle of his world. She had to get to know the soldiers who worked under him and as well as those he answered to.

Carolyn was trying to help her accomplish that objective, because, really, what better way to get into that world than to be the girlfriend's best friend?

"I'm sorry, I overreacted."

"My fault. I should have warned you earlier. I get why you'd be worried, he is a criminal and a killer."

Smiling slightly, she told her, "I don't envy you're job, but I've got your back in this." Then Alex blew out a puff of air that blew her hair out of her eyes. "Okay, I gotta get back out there before I get fired on my first day."

* * *

><p>Sitting down on the couch in the office, he tried to get Carolyn in that damn dress out of his head. The last thing he needed was to get distracted by her. She was his contact, and she was another agent, and in her mind he was only a criminal informant for the bureau.<p>

He desperately wanted to tell her the truth because to him it was important. He didn't want to have to guess how she would react toward him if something were to happen. He didn't want to worry about whether or not she would have his back. Yes, he was her responsibility, but if she only thought he was a criminal, a C.I. for the bureau, how far would that loyalty go?

Not very far, or at least that was what he thought anyway. Even with her there, because she didn't know the truth, he felt alone. That loneliness wasn't a very pleasant feeling in the world he was living in. He trusted absolutely no one in his life, in the people he surrounded himself with.

Mobsters, criminals, they were loyal to a point but anyone of them could turn on him. They could be bought or they could just decide that he had to be killed because of some other reason. Or someone could come along who saw him as a threat, like Demarco, and try to take him out. It was a kill or be killed world, and there was no getting out of it until the FBI, or God, told him when.

There was a soft knock at the door before it opened to reveal the woman he'd been trying to get out of his head.

Carolyn smiled a little before coming in and closing the door. "It's okay for me to be in here?"

"Of course," Bobby told her as he stood. It seemed the gentlemanly thing to do. "Um," he gestured to the small bar against the wall, "you want anything?"

"I'll have what you're having."

He filled a glass with scotch for her as she looked around the office. It was the first time she'd come to the club, which still surprised him, so he gave her time to take it all in. The office was very neutral with not a whole lot in it, only the basics. Besides the pullout couch along the far wall under the window, the only thing in the room was a desk, two filing cabinets, and the mini-bar.

Carolyn accepted the glass as she went to sit down on the couch. "Nice place you got here."

Bobby smiled a little as he sat beside her. "It's decent…Quiet. The uh, the walls are sound proof. Gives me a sense of privacy."

"So all night long, when you're actually here, you do nothing but lay here in silence?"

Bobby thought about that as he slowly nodded, saying, "Actually, yeah, I do. I barely sleep as is, so whenever I get the opportunity, this couch comes in handy. It folds out too."

He tried not to stare, but his eyes were betraying him. When he first saw her come in the club, he'd been stunned. It wasn't her actual presence, but she was without the wig and she was in that dress. Out on the street, she had to dress seductively but she wore enough clothes to still leave a little to the imagination. Then when she came to his apartment, she'd been all business and dressed appropriately.

Tonight, she was neither of those things. Her attire was classy and sexy and no where in her demeanor did he see Agent Barek. Nor did he see Medea. What he saw was Carolyn, and the woman that she was. It had been a wonderful thing for him to witness.

From a professional standpoint, and who they were to each other on this operation, it made him think that she was willing to trust him. If she didn't, he didn't think she would have come there looking like that. She would have stayed in character to him as Medea or not come at all.

Personally, he hoped this meant they were one step closer to becoming friends, because he liked her a lot. He hoped that if she couldn't be allowed to know that he was a agent, that at least he could be an informant she could rely on.

"I had to lie to Alex tonight."

Bobby had leaned his head back on the couch; turning to look at her, he said, "Why? I thought you two were friends?"

"We are, but she thinks I'm Medea, so I have to lie to her about certain things so she doesn't find out about me."

He took a sip of the scotch as he listened; the fact that the FBI agent took in a hooker had been startling. Alex could blow her cover if she were to find out. He didn't know what had happened, other than the fact that Alex had gotten a job there, for it to be okay with the bureau to let something like that happen, but he had to trust that Carolyn knew what she was doing.

Carolyn moved on the couch, turning her body sideways to look at him. It also put her closer to him and it was a struggle to breathe as he looked into her eyes. "I told her that we were together."

That was when he stopped thinking as he asked, "You, uh…What?"

Carolyn laughed a little at the look on his face; he knew he looked like a deer in the headlights. "With Alex working here, and being my roommate and friend, she would get curious as to why I'm going to be seen with you a lot more."

Bobby had to get over the fact that she told Alex they were together quickly because he was starting to lose focus in the conversation. "Okay, hold up. You're telling me that you had to lie to Alex, telling her that you're my girlfriend be-_cause_…you're going to be spending more time with me?"

"Right," she said with a nod.

"Doing what?"

Carolyn hesitated for a moment before dropping the bombshell, "Pretending to be your girlfriend."

"What?" he nearly yelled before shaking his head. Bobby stood and started to pace as he felt so many emotions all at once. Confusion, excitement, dread, and fear all rolled into one.

"Actually, if you think about it, it's not actually a lie."

Bobby stopped pacing as he looked at her. She seemed okay with the idea and he didn't know whether to be worried or not. "When did this happen again? Uh… Steve told you this?"

She finished off her drink and sat the glass on the floor as she explained, "Right. He called me up this afternoon-"

"What time?"

"Around two. We scheduled a meeting for five; he invited me to dinner. I went and we talked about it. He said that something changed with the operation and they needed someone to act as your girlfriend. I said I'll do it."

Downing the drink, he went over to the bar and refilled his glass then pulled out a cigarette. This was the last thing he needed. How did starting a mob war and trying to get him to the head of family constitute enough reason to get him a girlfriend?

And it was Carolyn? He was having a hard enough time being around her when he knew he didn't have a chance in Hell. Now, he had every excuse in the world to hit on her. Take her out for dinner and buy her things, or call her up at night to talk…Bobby downed the other glass before deciding he had enough.

"I didn't know having to pretend to like me would be such a bad thing?"

"What?" he asked as he looked over at her. Bobby saw the disappointment on her face as he realized what she was thinking. "No…no-no, no, you've got it…" He walked back over to the couch and sat down. It was difficult trying to figure out how to explain it without telling her what he thought of her, or blowing his own cover; he took a long couple of drags off the smoke before saying, "I'm concerned about you, not…It-it's just that, you know, you're my contact and I'm afraid that you might be put in danger. D-did, uh…did Steve tell you we talked today?"

"All he said was that things were discussed and circumstances had changed."

Sighing, he closed his eyes, leaned on his knees, and rubbed at his head as he tried to figure out if he could tell her or not. He didn't mind keeping secrets or lying, but when it came to inviting someone into his world, especially now that there was a war going on, it didn't feel right. Having her as his girlfriend was going to put her right in the middle of everything. Maybe that was what Steve wanted; that was the reason they decided to put Carolyn in as his girlfriend. They thought he would need an extra man, uh…woman.

"Bobby?"

"Hum?" he mumbled as he rested his head on his hand and opened his eyes to look at her.

"I understand that you're afraid for me, but I know who you are, what you do, and what I'm getting myself into. For this operation, I'm willing to take that chance."

Breathing out, he looked down at her hand that was resting on the couch between them. Tentatively, like he didn't know if she would pull away or not, he reached for it while watching her very closely. Carolyn didn't even twitch as he rested his hand on hers; that let him breathe a little easier as he said, "This…It's going to take a lot of trust." Then, he carefully asked, "Do you trust me?"

It took a moment, but he saw that in her eyes the uncertainty. Along with that uncertainty however, he saw determination. Carolyn was a fighter, and she had a lot of will and strength. That just made him like her even more. She stared into his eyes, never breaking contact, as she told him, "I'll learn to."

At least she wasn't a liar. He gave a nod, and letting go of her hand he went to speak when his cell buzzed in his pocket. "Sorry," he said as he pulled it out. "Donovan," he answered as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he listened.

"I scheduled you a flight. You leave first thing in the morning, six o'clock."

Bobby didn't have to ask his boss where he was flying to; he had a pretty good guess since Mack wasn't coming back from Florida anytime soon. Sighing, he rubbed at his head as he spoke softly into the phone. "Yes, sir. Do I need-"

"No, you don't need anything. No one knows that you're leaving, and I want it kept that way." As Mack spoke to him, he felt a hand on his back.

Tensing involuntary at the contact, he turned and saw Carolyn leaning closer to him, rubbing at his back, then his neck. When he caught her eyes, he was surprised to see that she looked worried. His confused mind tried to focus on what his boss was saying, but all he could focus on was her hand kneading the tight muscles.

She gave him a stubborn look, silently telling him that it was nothing and if he made a big deal out of it that she would most definitely shoot him. How he got all that from that one look, he didn't know, but it made he relax enough to benefit from her massage.

He ended his call with Mack but kept still as his eyes closed at the feel of her hand soothing his tensed neck and shoulders. "Why?" he softly asked as he kept his head down.

She didn't answer right away, then he heard her say, "You looked like you could use it." Opening his eyes, he looked over his shoulder at her. Then she explained further, "If we've got to pretend that we're a couple, I've gotta start treating you decently."

Chuckling, he told her, "Thank you…for th-the, uh, the consideration. I haven't had a massage since…" he tried to think about the last time and couldn't. His head couldn't get part the last eight years and he knew it was before then. Before he had to stop thinking about connections and being intimate with a woman. This was no kind of life to find love. "I don't know when."

"You're not the only one who can't remember something like that."

"Maybe I can return the favor someday…If, if you want.?"

Carolyn didn't answer that as she finished the massage and got up. Leaving feeling lost and alone once again. He took it that he had offended her with that request, so he didn't try to stop her as she went to the door.

"Uh," he said, stopping her before she could open it. Clearing his throat from the sudden emotion that tightened it, he told her, "I'm flying out to Florida in the morning. Mack wants to see me in person to talk. I'll be, uh…I'll be back tomorrow night. Maybe w-we, uh, we can…get together, t-to…to talk?"

Carolyn answered as she opened the door, saying, "Okay. Give me a call when you land. I'll pick you up."

He watched as she left the office before groaning loudly as he leaned back on the couch.

The next time he saw Steve, he was going to kick his ass.

TBC…


	6. Good and Evil, Heaven and Hell

A/N: A few things before we get on with the story. First, I was planning to develop Carolyn's character solely through Bobby's POV, from how he sees her and their interactions, but I realized that I had to at least give her a few scenes in order to establish her character. Anyway, I hope I did okay.

Second, to give you a visual of Alex's bar scene in this chapter, I re-watched "Lady's Man" and I used the bar featured in that episode for it. Lastly, I know we've all seen the pictures of Joe Dutton on LOCI; however, in my mind, the actor I see playing Joe is Kevin McKidd (aka Dr. Owen Hunt on Grey's Anatomy).

Enjoy.

* * *

><p>He kept his eyes out the window as the plane continued to climb into the early morning sky. As they broke through the clouds, he couldn't see anything below him but a sea of white and nothing above but a vast dark space filled with stars that he could've never saw from the ground. It never ceased to amaze him; no matter how many times he'd flown, the sight never got old.<p>

Too bad he wouldn't be awake long enough to watch the sun break over the Atlantic. The one thing that no one knew about him was that he was claustrophobic. Heights he could care less, but put him in a small plane and he would suffer a panic attack before he ever left the ground. That was unless he drugged himself, and that morning he had done just that with a sleeping pill mixed with a glass of bourbon at the airport bar.

Leaning his head against the window, he put the earphones he'd bought off the flight attendant in and surfed through the music channels until he found one playing classic rock. Along with the medication, the alcohol, and Roger Waters voice singing '_Welcome to the Machine_', he drifted off to sleep before the seatbelt light clicked off.

_It was a hot summer day in August, and he had just turned eleven that Monday. Since it was now Saturday, his dad had promised to spend the day with him. Frank wasn't allowed to come along. So far, they had been to Coney Island where he had played games and rode the rides as his dad met with his friend Eddie._

_Now, they were driving to Flatbush and a song by Paul Simon was playing on the radio, irritating him because it was too slow. He wanted to turn it, but the last time he touched the dial his dad had smacked him for it; not wanting to get hit again, he left it alone as he stared out the window. When he noticed they were circling the block, he realized his dad was trying to find a parking spot._

"_There's one?" he said as he pointed down Avenue J._

"_Guess we gotta walk," his dad said as he turned down the one way and parked._

_The bar they were headed to was a block down on the opposite side of the street, near 42nd Street. As he got out of the car, he saw a group of boys all around his age sitting on the curb outside a store, sharing a bag of candy and bottle of soda._

"_They must be looking for trouble."_

"_How'd you mean?" he asked his dad as they started toward the corner to cross the street._

"_They're Irish kids in an Italian neighborhood."_

_He didn't know why, but he'd been realizing lately that everything was always a neighborhood thing. Or a family thing._

_Rule One of his family: Don't talk to anyone about your family. That fell in line with Rule Two: Tell no one where you live. There were many others, but those were the main two that he relied on the most._

_He didn't see the kids again until he spotted them coming down the sidewalk outside the bar his dad went into. One of the boys was taller than all the others and he was showing the other two boys a magazine he bragged about swiping from the newsstand._

_As they passed him, the tall boy holding the magazine took a step, walking right into him and hitting him in the chest with his elbow. "Hey," he boy yelled at him, "watch it, you wop."_

_Confused and generally curious, but knowing that the boy was being mean, he asked angrily as he clutched his chest, "What'd you call me?"_

_The kid turned around and walked up to him. "I called you a dirty," the boy said with a shove, "greasy," another shove, "wop," he said with one final hard push that made him trip back to the concrete sidewalk._

_It didn't matter what the boy had called him or why, because once he was pushed, he saw red. As soon as he hit the ground, he was right back up. He plowed into the boy and took him to the ground before hitting him in the face. Even though he was only eleven, between his father and Frank, he'd been in plenty of fights and he knew how to not only take a punch but how to deliver one._

_The boy started swinging his arms and fists back at him, trying to knock him off, as the other two jumped on his back. It was three against one and he was still winning._

_Through all the yelling, fighting, scrambling and cursing he didn't hear the door to the bar open. The next thing he knew the two boys were off him and he was yanked to his feet. His dad smacked him upside the head before throwing him into the bar while some other man yelled at the Irish kids to go home._

_To go back to _their_ own neighborhood._

_The door slammed shut as he caught his breath while standing in the middle of the bar room with four men around him, staring. Looking up, toward the door, he saw his dad glaring down at him and that was when he felt something wet drip from his lip. Reaching up, he wiped it away and looked at his hand. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth._

"_You have a brave kid, Bill. He took on three of them," one of the men said, causing the others to all chuckle._

_His dad wasn't smiling or laughing as he pointed to a chair at a table by the window. "Sit down, Bobby. I won't be much longer."_

_Going over to the table, he sat as he steadied his breathing and looked around the bar. It was all wood and metal, a huge mirror was behind the counter along with an assortment of bottles._

_The man behind the counter was leaning on it and looking at him. Catching his eye, the man smiled a little and shook his head at him._ _"Why'd ya hit the micks, Bobby?"_

_Not knowing what a 'mick' was, he understood well enough that the man was asking about the other kids. Shrugging, he said, "He hit me first, called me a-a, uh…a wop." Then, he asked, "What is that?"_

_At that, that place silenced as the men looked around at each other._

_Then, the man behind the counter looked to his dad and said, "What're you teaching this kid? He doesn't even know what a wop is and he's kicking the Irish kids asses over it."_

_Looking at his dad as the other men continued to get in a good laugh at his expense, making him embarrassed, he saw the disappointment in his dad's eyes before he looked away. He didn't know what was going on or why, but he slouched back in the chair hoping the others would forget about him._

_He tried not to pay attention to what his dad was talking about with the others but he knew it was about gambling. It was always about gambling and money. _

"_You still owe us five, Bill. Either pay up or-"_

"_I'll get you the money, Gino, I promise. I'm waiting on a payment from Eddie then I'll-"_

"_We talked to Eddie yesterday, he says he don't owe you anything."_

_At that point, he looked over and watched as one of the guys grabbed his dad around the neck and threw his head into the wall. He jumped and caught sight of the man behind the counter coming toward him. Before he could move, he was grabbed up by the arm._

"_I'm getting the kid outta here, boss."_

"_Let him stay," Gino said as he kept his eyes on his dad._

"_No," his dad snapped. "Get him out of here, Richie."_

_His dad was holding his head and he saw the blood that started to drip out from between his fingers. "Dad?"_

"_Rich, get him out!" his dad yelled again._

_Richie looked to the other man, the one his dad was talking too, Gino, and waited. Reluctantly, Gino gestured for him to leave._

_He was pulled by the arm until he was back outside._ _P__anic set in as the door closed behind him and he could no longer hear or see his dad. Shoving the big man away from him, he went over to the window and peered inside. The same guy who'd thrown his dad's head into the wall yanked him out of the booth. His dad struggled and tried to fight back but he was ganged up on and thrown to the floor._

"_Dad!" he yelled and hurried back to the door but Richie was there to stop him from going in._

"_Stop it, Bobby! You're just going to get yourself hurt."_

_Not caring about his own well-being, he hit Richie where he knew from experience it would hurt. As Richie clutched his injured groin, he pulled the door open and went inside and came to a sudden stop._

_His dad was on the wooden floor huddled into himself as the others kept kicking him. Grabbing a chair, he ran toward the closest man and swung. It broke on contact as the man screamed out in pain before whirling around on him. Using a broken leg from the chair as a bat, he hit the man again in the knee before bringing it around to hit him the face._

_The other man stopped kicking his dad as he turned to him. Backing away, he drew the man to him before charging forward, driving the wooden leg into his gut. They both fell to the floor but he was quick to his feet. As he drew back to hit the man again someone drabbed his arms and twisted them back, making him drop the chair leg to the floor._

_Despite the pain, he didn't yell or cry as he having focused on something other than the twisting of his wrists. A lesson his dad had taught him well. Across from him, and still sitting in the booth opposite where his dad had been seated, was Gino. They stared at each other; Gino with an unwavering coldness while he was boring rage. He knew that if he had a gun, he would've used it._

_His dad may have treated him and his family badly, but he still loved him. It was a family thing, and no one threatened his family._

_Gino got up slowly from the table and stepped over his dad who was panting and breathing heavily on the floor as he struggled to his feet. He gave his dad a kick in the ribs, sending him back down before stepping over to him. Gino gave a nod to whoever it was that was holding him and the grip on his wrists relaxed. Not looking away from Gino, he sucked in a deep breath as he readied himself, waiting for the blows._

"_You got heart, kid. How old are you?"_

_Never relaxing or breaking eye contact, he answered, "Eleven."_

_For some reason, that caused Gino to smile. "It'll be a shame if your sheeny father ends up letting you get killed because he's too cheap and worthless to hold up his end of a deal. Don't you think?"_

_Glancing down to his dad, he watched as he got to his feet. He stumbled against the wall and leaned into it for support. Bloody and bruised, his father wrapped his arm around his chest while spitting out blood._

_Gino went up to his dad, saying, "If you can't pay, I'll kill your kid. If you still can't pay, I'll kill your other son. Then I'll move onto your wife."_

_His dad kept his eyes on the floor as he gave a weak nod._

"_Good," Gino said. "You got two hours to get me my five thousand. Now get outta my bar."_

_His dad started for the door as he called out for him, "C'mon, Bobby."_

_Looking back, he saw that the man who had held him from behind was Richie. Once he got closer to the door, he heard Gino start yelling at him right before he followed his dad out onto the street._

_They got a block away before his dad turned to him. Still holding his chest and breathing hard, he stared down at him. Bracing for a berating or a good beating to teach him to mind his own business, he was surprised to see the glint in his father's eyes right before he smiled. "You did good. Acted like a man today…I'm…kind-of proud of you."_

_Stunned, he didn't knew what to do or say to that. It was the first time his father ever told him that he was proud of something he'd done. Then, because his mind was still thinking about it, he asked, "What's a wop?"_

_Frowning again, his dad leaned against the wall as he looked around the street. "It's derogatory…" he shook his head as he explained, "It's a bad word for people who're Italian."_

"_So…I was right in hitting him for it then?" he asked as they started to walk again. _

"_Hitting is never the answer, Bobby. That's why I was disappointed when I saw you going after those Irish kids."_

"_He hit me in the chest with his elbow!" he quickly defended himself. "It had nothing to do with them being Irish, besides, you hit me." He knew he was goading his dad but didn't care._

"_That's different," his dad said as he stopped walking and turned to face him. "I'm your dad, I do it to teach you what not to do." _

_He stared at his dad as he tried to reason that out; it wasn't working._

"_All father's discipline their children, Bobby," his dad said as they approached the car. "Your granddad hit me to keep me in line, I do it to keep you and Frank in line. Circle of life." _

_He stood on the sidewalk as he watched his father unlock the door. It had never occurred to him until he mentioned it that his grandfather had hit his father. The anger he'd been feeling earlier started to heat his face again as he said, "I'll never hit my kid."_

_That caused his dad to stop with his hand on the door; they stared at each other for a long moment before his dad told him, "You say that now, at eleven. Wait until you have a son just like you. Then come tell me that you didn't kick his ass for talking back, or skipping school, or breaking the window with a football, and all the other stupid shit you do."_

_Before he could say anything else, he heard a commotion on the corner and when he looked he saw those boys again. They were still running around the neighborhood even though Richie had told them to get lost._

_His father looked and saw them too. "Why don't you try being their friends instead of fighting 'em?"_

_Looking disbelieving at his dad, he said, "I don't have a problem with them, but they got one with me."_

"_You're kids," he dad sternly reminded him, like he could forget. "Find something to bond over, like baseball. If Jackie Robinson can break the race barrier of sports, you can be friends with the Irish kids."_

_Before he let his father get into the driver's seat, he said, "Gino called you 'sheeny'."_

_His dad slammed the door close and walked back around it. Leaning down to him, he said, "Listen to me, Bobby. If you take with you anything I tell you, let it be this: don't let them get to you. Okay? Don't…" he looked to the ground before brining his eyes back up to his. The pain and regret he saw in them confused him because he had never seen his father with that look before. He almost looked sorry. "Don't let them take you like they've taken me. Promise me that."_

_Not knowing what his dad was talking about, he promised anyway and hoped he figured out how to live up to it, because unlike his dad, he never broke a promise. "I promise."_

_Giving a nod, he said, "Okay. I gotta go back to Coney Island and talk to Eddie, so…" he dug into his pocket and pulled out some dollar bills and change. He gave him the money, asking, "You know how to take the subway, right?"_

"_I'm not an idiot."_

_He saw the smile before it was gone. Before his dad straightened up and went back around to the driver door. "Get home, and take care of your mother. I'll be there later."_

_His dad got in behind the wheel and didn't look back as he pulled away from the curb, leaving him on the sidewalk alone. Looking back down the street at the boys, he suddenly had an idea. A way to get back at Gino and to take care of his family._

_Walking up to the boys who were sitting on a stoop, he stopped right in front of the tall boy who he'd hit earlier. The boy got to his feet and stepped up to him, expecting another fight._

_He took a step back as he asked, "I was wondering…Do any of you know how to steal a car?"_

_They all looked at each other before the tall boy shrugged, saying, "Sure. Who's car ya got in mind?"_

_Smiling, he said, "Gino's." _

_As he walked with the group of three Irish boys, the tall one held out his hand. "I'm Mickey Donovan."_

_Shaking his hand, he told him, "Bobby Goren."_

"_You know who Gino is, don't ya?"_

"_He's a mob guy."_

"_An Italian mob guy," Mickey said as they crossed the street. "So, why'd you want to steal a car from one of your own?"_

_He looked over at Mickey as he thought about that and what that meant, because he knew that in his neighborhood it would mean everything. "He's not; I'm only half Italian…and, besides, he threatened my family."_

_Mickey gave a nod but didn't say anything else as they reached the car parked outside the bar. No one was around watching because all the men were inside, conducting business. _

_As Mickey opened the door and got in under the console, he stood watch as the other boys did the same up on the sidewalk. His pulse was racing as he bounced on the balls of his feet until he heard the car's engine start. Getting in, Mickey moved over to the passenger seat as the other boys got into the back. _

"_Where're you takin' it?"_

_He put it into drive as he asked Mickey, "Know any Irish who'd buy it for ten grand?"_

_Mickey didn't even hesitate as he told him, "I know a few. Take it to my dad, he'll know who to sell it to."_

_Almost two hours later, he walked back into the bar where his dad had beaten on the floor. Gino was still at the same booth and Richie was once again behind the counter._

_When they saw him come in, Richie started around the counter as one of the men he hit with the chair leg got up from a bar stool._

_Gino didn't move as he stopped in front of him and dropped a brown paper bag onto the table. The man kept his eyes on him as he asked, "What's that, a bag of groceries?"_

"_It's the money my father owes you, plus an extra two grand to keep away from my family."_

_Gino looked skeptical as he gestured for the other man to open it. At seeing that it was a bag full of money, seven thousand worth or it, he said, "I know you didn't get all this from your paper route."_

_He couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he laid the car registration and receipt for payment on the table. _

_Gino looked at the registration and the receipt; his face dropped when he realized what he'd done. "You little…_fuck_. You boosted my car and sold it?"_

"_Threaten my father all you want, he's the one that deserves it, but don't ever threaten me, my mother or brother again."_

_The bodyguard stepped toward him with his hand on a gun but Gino stopped him. _

"_One more thing…" he said as he leaned on the table, staring Gino right in his eyes. "Mr. O'Malley of the Westies says thank you and he's expecting a call from you real soon."_

_Gino only glared as he smiled at him one last time before leaving the bar._

_Mickey was standing on the sidewalk waiting for him. "How'd it go?"_

_Shrugging, he said, "I guess I gotta wait and see."_

_They were quiet for a while as they walked, then Mickey asked, "What're you going to do with the other three thousand?"_

"_Give it to my mother."_

"_All of it?"_

_Shrugging, he said, "I might keep _some_ of it…A hundred or so."_

_Mickey thought about that before asking, "You like the Yankees?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_We got extra tickets for next weeks game. I was gonna sell them…Interested?"_

_He felt a smile cross his face as he asked, "In buying, or helping you sell them?"_

_I__t wasn't baseball, but at least they were bonding._

He felt the plane jerk forward as it landed. His heavy eyelids fluttered open against the assault of sunlight streaming through the window. The urban jungle of the city of New York he'd left two hours ago was replaced with ocean breeze, palm trees, sunlight, and vast openness as he waited for the plane to taxi around the Fort Lauderdale International Airport in Florida.

The memory he dreamed about lingered in his head as he exited the plane with no carry-on and no bag to claim. As he thought about that day forever ago, he remembered that his dad didn't come home that night. That day on the street when he was eleven had been the last time he ever saw his father alive.

He never knew what became of his dad until nine years later when he was twenty years old. It was his first year in the Army when he received a letter from his brother Frank that contained two newspaper clippings. One was of a story that had run in the _New York Ledger_ a month before, the other had been his father's obituary. His dad had been found in the trunk of a burned car in Brooklyn. He'd been shot fourteen times and stabbed twice before the car was set on fire. It was an obvious mob hit, and no one had been arrested for the murder.

Also in the article, it had said that the car he was found in, a 1967 Pontiac, had once belonged to mob boss Eugene 'Gino' Salerno.

To that day he kept the clippings in his wallet along with the only picture he had of his father.

Rationally, he knew he wasn't to blame. His father was a low-life gambler, adulterer, and abusive alcoholic who got into business with criminals. It was just a matter of time before he crossed the wrong person, refuse to pay on the debt he owed, and then got killed for it. But he couldn't get pass the car they'd found him in, and why it was _that _car.

Coincidence, or a message to him? He didn't know, but the guilt nearly destroyed him. It was one of the reasons he allowed himself to become interested in law enforcement. Why he chose the Organized Crime Unit with the bureau instead of Behavioral Science where his skills as a profiler would've been put to good use.

Declan had been disappointed in his decision, having seen his as his protégé, but he had to be his own man and choose his own path.

Outside on the walkway in front of the airport, Dave, Mack's bodyguard was waiting for him. Together they got into the backseat of a black Lincoln. No one else was in the car beside's Mack's trusty driver, Stan, who barely acknowledged them before pulling away from the curb.

* * *

><p>He had called the cell she kept in her purse and wasn't supposed to use except for in emergencies, and asked to meet at Lion's Rock; it was a bar that they used to frequent in Manhattan. Against her better judgment, she went.<p>

The bar wasn't busy during the afternoon but she still chose a two person table near the back and waited for him to arrive. Her heart was beating fast and the caffeine from the coffee she'd picked up from a vendor wasn't helping as she rolled the cup between her hands and watched the door. Even though she was conflicted with her decision to come, she was glad she did because she really missed him.

And then when he walked through the door, she nearly cried and ran to him like he was a soldier returning home from war. He spotted her and a huge smile crossed his face as he hurried to her.

Picking her up in his arms, and hugging her close, Joe breathed out a deeply loving, "I've missed you so much."

Alex held him close and refused to let him go as she hugged him tight right back. "Me too," she told him before she closed her eyes and just took him in. His strength, his scent, touch, and the kisses he placed over her neck, ear, and cheek.

"You shaved," she commented as he finally eased her to down so her feet were back on the solid ground. Rubbing a hand on his smooth cheek, she gave him a kiss on the lips before saying, "I like it rougher."

"I know you do," he commented right back, making her shake her head.

"Not what I was referring to."

"Still applies. And I'll grow the stubble back, promise." Keeping their hands intertwined, they sat and Joe brought her hand up to his lips. After kissing it, he said, "You're more beautiful than I remember."

"You saw me like three days ago."

"Been three days of pure hell," he told her as he smiled.

The smile lit up his blue eyes, causing her to smile right back like some love-struck school girl. After all these years, he still made her heart pound with just a look. "I know the feeling," she told him as she squeezed his hand. "I'm actually glad you called. I wanted to, but with this assignment…I was told not to contact anyone and I didn't know-"

Joe nodded his understanding as he leaned on the table, getting closer to her. "I understand, baby. That's why I had us meet here. It's away from everything and everyone."

"Who are you running from?" she teased but her humor turned to worry as she saw his smile waver.

Joe recovered quickly and gave her a reassuring smile as he told her, "It's nothing. I'm back undercover as well, and it's just…things are getting heated."

"Are you okay? You have backup and-"

"Alex," Joe silenced her rushed concern as he cupped her hand to his cheek. Shutting his eyes, he rested her hand against his face. The physical connection was something she always craved from him, and it was something that he would always give to her. Breathing out, he told her, "I don't have a lot of time, and I didn't come here to talk about the job."

She closed her eyes and fought the fear that had established permanate residence in her heart ever since the day he was shot two years ago. Alex knew she was overreacting, but since she hadn't been able to be home each night to see him and hadn't been able to talk to him in a few days, her fear had amounted into irrationality. Shaking her head, she knew she had to get a grip. "You're right. I know you're safe. Unlike me you've got the department behind you."

"And you've got the whole FBI. I'm actually jealous."

Huffing out a laugh, she said, "You shouldn't be. At least with Vice I know who my partners are and how much backup. Out here, I've got one that I know of."

"Is he treating you okay?"

Leave it to Joe to automatically assume it was a guy. "_She _is treating me just fine. We're roommates."

"Oh," he said with a twisted little smile. "Maybe I should come over and see what you've girls have been up to."

Alex couldn't help but laugh at him and his perverted maleness. "In your dreams."

"Definitely."

She missed this so much; being with him, teasing one other and just enjoying the intimacy. Leaning over the table, closing the distance between them, she kissed him deeply, making him moan. She felt the chair move as he pulled it, with her still in it, around the table without breaking contact.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hm?" she hummed as she attacked his clean-shaven jaw with her lips.

Joe's hands were rubbing along her jeans, over her knees, thighs, and up to her waist as he asked, "Remember that hotel-"

"You mean the one two blocks down that we took shelter in that night when it was pouring rain?"

She felt him smile at the memory as she heard his deep voice in her ear asking, "Wanna see if we can get the same room?"

Pulling her lips away from his smooth skin, she cupped his face and kissed him again before standing. "You have time?"

Joe stood with her as they hurried out of the bar. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't."

* * *

><p>To say she was afraid was an understatement. This hadn't been what she expected when she joined the bureau straight out of graduate school. With her degrees, and having her doctorate in Psychology, she was hoping for a position with the Behavioral Science Unit as a profiler. Instead, they had stuck her in Organized Crime because they needed a woman. That had actually been their reasoning. Since she was an Italian woman from Brooklyn, she was the perfect candidate.<p>

Being out in the field, and being undercover, hadn't been what she expected either. She trained and studied to be a profiler, to investigate crimes, study the mind of criminals, and work in the office. She wasn't trained to go undercover as some mobsters girlfriend in the middle of a turf war. But, of course, she would do her job. It was her duty and despite the fact that it was extremely dangerous, she wasn't going to back down. She didn't like cowards and she had never run away from anything in her life.

Her fear only made her more stubborn to get the job done and to perform it to the best of her abilities. Failure wasn't an option in her book.

At least she wasn't in it alone. There was Alex; the Vice cop that was quickly becoming her ally. She really wanted to let Alex know that Bobby was working for them, but she knew that it would compromise the cop's mission. Alex had to continue to believe that Bobby was a bad guy. Why? She didn't know, but Agent Norton had told her the fewer the people who knew the better it was for everyone.

Lifting the glass, she took another sip of the wine as she looked out over the busy terminals. She was sitting at one of the airport restaurants, in the bar area, waiting on Bobby to depart the plane.

It was a small comfort to her that Bobby was working as an informant for them. He was still a criminal, and still dangerous, but he seemed genuinely dedicated to staying on the straight and arrow as much as he could. The man was still a mystery to her; he was a contradiction in every sense of the word. Beneath his tough exterior, she saw a deeply troubled and sensitive man filled with regret. A few nights before, when they talked out on the steps of the brownstone, she had seen the pain and guilt in his eyes when he talked about taking Andy's life. There was a humanity about him that all the other criminals didn't possess.

In everything she had read and studied about harden criminals, about men in the world of organized crime, it was that they didn't feel regret. Murders were justified and accepted as the norm. Bobby had been deeply affected and filled with remorse. He didn't talk like a criminal or like a hitman. He had talked like a man with his back against the wall; a man with no other choice.

Maybe that was what he was. A man who wanted out but saw no way of escape, except to work with the FBI. That was his escape; it was his way out. Yet, he hadn't taken the deal that would have given him that freedom. He had turned it down in order to keep doing what he was doing. Bobby had told her it was because he needed a purpose. She thought that there was truth to that, but also he was searching for something greater than a purpose.

She had yet to figure that part out but she was determined to find out.

It was one of the reasons why she agreed to go completely undercover in this operation and act as his girlfriend. She had to admit that she liked being around him because she felt that, in a way, they understood each other. They didn't judge one another as they accepted each other's respective roles.

Also, she liked profiling him; he was so closed off and perceptive that it was greatly difficult to get a read on him. She enjoyed that challenge. There was still so much about him that she didn't know; still so much to discover that she couldn't pass up the opportunity.

Then there was the man's looks. God, why did he have to be so damn gorgeous. She had always been attracted to the 'bad boy' types, and Bobby personified it to perfection. When she had first saw him in a mug-shot Agent Norton had shown her, she couldn't help but curse his good looks.

Her first time meeting him in person, he had taken her by surprise. She had thought that despite his looks, Bobby was going to be the biggest jackass in the world. The man was a criminal after all. She was expecting a complete psychopath that she would have to try and keep in line. Instead, he was the exact opposite. He was smart, charming, shy, thoughtful, and respecting. If he didn't make a living threatening and killing people, he would've been her perfect man.

Looking up from studying the white wine in her glass, she watched as hordes of people departed the terminal and headed her way. One of the last off was Bobby. He had his head down as slowly made his way through down the long terminal.

She couldn't help but watch his awkward stride. Everything about him drew her in, from the way his body moved to his irregular way of speaking. That awkward stammer of his was enduring and that imperfect smile of his was hard to ignore. His imperfections made him more interesting, more human, and once again, more perfect. She didn't even mind the tattoos, because she did have a thing for them. If they were done right, she thought they looked good. And on him, they were done right. He looked beautiful.

Her mind was drifting into dangerous territory because she shouldn't think that a mobster, informant or not, was something to admire. She was already attracted to him physically. What if she found herself liking him in other ways? From the magnitude and variety of books he had in his apartment spoke volumes of his intellect, but she had yet to discover the depths of his mind.

As she continued to watch him walk toward her, he had yet to look her way and the troubled expression on his face made her immediately feel sorry for him. When Bobby Donovan wasn't acting like such a badass, he expressed a lot of emotions that nearly broke her heart.

Taking a breath, she reminded herself that she had to remain professional and as detached emotionally from him as possible. It was a good thing that he knew her status; as long as she set boundaries, she had to trust that he would respect them.

He was about to walk right by her when she said, "Wow, if you think any harder your head will explode."

Bobby jerked around and at seeing her sitting at the end of the bar, his shock immediately turned into a soft smile. Sliding into the bar chair next to hers, he rested his head in left hand and looked at her. "In all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world…"

She laughed at his attempt to charm her, and because it was working, as she shook her head. "That line would've worked better last night," she told him before taking a sip of the wine.

Smiling wider, he told her, "I couldn't think. Seeing you in that dress…All, uh, all I could think about was that song..._Long Cool Woman In a Black Dress_. If I would've whispered those lyrics in your ear, you probably would've thrown your drink in my face."

"The Hollies, 1972," she said, referring to the band and the year the song was a hit. "And you're right, I would've," she quickly shot down his remark as she finished off her drink. Carolyn caught the look in his eyes before he turned to the bartender. He looked amused yet at the same time disappointed.

Bobby ordered a scotch and then leaned into her, pointing to the glass. "May I?"

She didn't know what he was asking since it was empty except for a little on the bottom; before she could answer, he reached over.

Picking up the glass, he held it under his nose and took a whiff of it before asking the bartender, "And another glass of the Pinot Grigio, Maso Canali…uh, per favore. Grazie," he told the bartender as the scotch was placed in front of him. At seeing her look, he shrugged as he picked up the glass and took a hefty drink. "So, when you said you were going to pick me up, you didn't mention doing it in a bar."

Great, she thought as she kept her eyes on him. He knew wines and how to speak Italian. Bobby took a glance at her before returning his eyes back to the bar-top. It was something he often did when they talked, like he was afraid to keep eye contact with her for too long. Then the times he did, his focus was so deep and penetrating that it was often unnerving.

"I figured you could use a drink," was her answer to his wondering. "How'd it go?"

"I-I, uh…I'm still alive," he told her as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "It, uh..It crossed my mind that…I mean, I wondered, you know, if I would ever get to see New York again. Usually, when the mob tells you to go, uh, go somewhere alone, and to not tell anyone…_well_…You can go 'head and kiss your ass goodbye."

"Yet you went anyway?"

Giving a nod as he pulled out a cigarette, he said, "I went anyway." As he was about to stick it in his mouth, the bartender approached them.

"There's no smokin' in here."

She saw the confrontational look on the bartender's face as he glared down at Bobby. Looking back at Bobby, she noticed the flicker of pain in his heated stare before he held up his hands, telling the man to back off. He put the cigarette behind his ear as he shoved the pack back into his pocket. Leaning on the bar, he rubbed at his head as the pain seemed to intensify.

"Say, why don't we finish these drinks and get out of here?"

Bobby looked at her, surprised, before he quickly downed his scotch and slid off the bar stool.

She followed suit, draining her glass and then leading him toward the exit. As they walked side-by-side in silence, she could tell he was back to thinking again, ignoring her and everyone around them. Despite the hour, nearly eleven at night, the airport was still busy with people arriving and departing.

Once out into the stuffy humid air, Bobby quickly pulled the cigarette off his ear and lit it. "Been needing one since I got on the plane in Florida."

Carolyn watched as he visibly relaxed as he took a few drags while pacing around the walk. "I took a taxi," she told him when he looked her way with a question in his eyes. "I let Alex use my car for work."

Bobby gave a nod as he blew out the smoke. He seemed unsteady and incredibly anxious as he looked around at the cars, taxis, people and buses going by. "Have you e-ever thought that…uh, that you were put here for a-ah, uh, a reason, but it-it, uh…It just seems like everything you do, or everything life throws your way is…that it's trying to keep you from, um…_completing_ that purpose?"

She was taken back by that rushed question as she kept her eyes on him. That was something she had been feeling for herself lately as she tried to figure out why she was there. Why she was put on this assignment with this man. "Yeah, I've thought that many times. What happened in Florida?"

He glanced at her, not answering, as he hailed the taxi coming their way. "I'll cover the fare," he said as he opened the door and held it for her.

As she got in, she heard him tell the driver her address and not his own.

"Alex has your car, right?" he asked as the cab pulled away from the curb. This was one of the times where he looked into her eyes and didn't turn away. It was like he suddenly needed confirmation. "And she's at the club...Unless you really want to go there instead."

Carolyn knew he hadn't done it for her, or if he did it was only secondary to his own want. Bobby was the one that didn't want to go to the club. She didn't know if he was also trying to avoid his apartment as well, but it didn't matter. They needed to talk and if going to her place was how it was going to happen, then…"No, it's fine; I'd rather go home."

Bobby stared into her eyes for a few more seconds before turning his head away to look out the window as he smoked on the cigarette. That pained expression of his, despite his body relaxing, never went away.

"What's the difference?" he quietly asked.

Carolyn barely heard the soft mumble as she stared ahead out the windshield. Not knowing if he was actually asking her a question or not, because she also had a habit of talking to herself, she asked, "The difference between what?" Looking at him, she saw that he hadn't taken his eyes away from the window.

"Good and evil, heaven and hell…Do you think you know the difference?"

"Yeah, of course."

"How? I mean…How can you know for sure that what you're seeing or hearing is it?"

Carolyn looked over at him and saw the contemplation in his eyes, as well as the pain. He truly wanted to know her answer. Giving it some thought, she said, "Well, I think you gotta be able to believe in people in order to recognize it. Believe in the truth."

Bobby was quiet for a moment before saying, "What if all you do is believe nothing but lies? What if there is no truth?"

She had no answer to that. She didn't think anyone did.

For the rest of the ride, neither one of them spoke as they were both lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

><p>"We got wine and beer."<p>

Bobby looked out the window, seeing the fire escape and the stores down on the street as he answered, "A beer, thanks." He felt her step up beside him and hand him the bottle. Pointing to the street below, to the Chinese restaurant, he said, "I know them. They owe me money. Three months worth."

"And their place hasn't been burnt to the ground yet. I'm shocked," she said dryly, but with an air of sincerity.

Bobby felt the pain knot in his heart at that accusation. "You don't believe in me, do you?" When she didn't answer, he explained, "Tao and his wife, they had twins recently and their son, Yi, left for boot camp, the Air Force, uh…two weeks ago, I think. Anyway, his sixteen year old daughter dropped out of school to deliver for them, and because they want an education for her, his wife started home schooling after working all day. I stopped collecting from him when he received his first notice from the bank. He defaulted on his mortgage by five hundred dollars. The same amount he owed me per month."

"Wouldn't Mack know that he's not paying?"

Shaking his head, he told her, "He doesn't know he's _not_; I add the five hundred each month from my own money."

Carolyn went to say something but stopped. She looked guilty and stunned all at once as she struggled to speak.

Bobby moved away from the window, giving her some space as he took a sip of the beer. "I get it," he told her as he looked around the small living room. "You have every right to assume-"

"It's not right. I shouldn't-"

"I'm…" he gestured around as he turned back to her, "who I am, so I understand why you would. It's not easy."

"What's not easy? Having a conscious?" she asked as she finally found her voice.

Bobby thought about that as he gave a curt nod. "With the job I have, having a conscious can sometimes be my worst enemy. It can get you killed…if, if you care _too_ much."

Carolyn eased over to him as he stood in the middle of the room. "Now you got me wondering if you care too much."

She stepped right into his personal space and he was the one suddenly uncomfortable with the intrusion. Normally, he was the one doing that to people, so it didn't bother him. But, for her to do it to him…Bobby felt his body squirm to move away as he battled with his will to stay firmly planted where he stood. Carolyn knew what she was doing as she stopped a few inches from him and stared up at him with those dark eyes.

The part of the him that wanted to stay, wanted to close the distance between them. The other part that wanted to move, wanted to curse her for teasing him. He hated being teased, especially by a woman who knew she was doing it. It was cruel. As his head conjured up images that were borderline perverted, he closed his eyes, shook his head, and stepped away.

"I-I, uh…" he said as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to get rid of the images from his mind's eye. "I'm not…" Bobby stopped as he realized he had no idea what Carolyn had said before, and even if she had asked him anything.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't," he told her as he sat down in the arm chair. "Last thing I need right now is an apology." That came out more bitter than he expected.

Not all his anger wasn't at her. Some was because of her teasing him, but most was at himself for having inappropriate thoughts about the agent. And for allowing himself feel anything toward her to begin with. He was only making things harder on himself, and if he continued he knew that she would sooner or later make a fool out of him. That pissed him off more than anything.

Refusing to look at her to see her reaction, he took a few gulps of the beer before leaning back with his hand over his eyes. He was getting away from what he needed to talk to Carolyn about. No, what he needed to talk to Agent Barek about. This was about business, nothing more. Taking a couple of long moments to gather his thoughts and to get his emotions under control, he sat up and saw her sitting on the sofa next to him.

Carolyn looked confused and slightly worried as she said, "I offended you somehow because you thought I was making a move."

She was just as perceptive as he was, and that unnerved him even more. "You're telling me you weren't?"

"I wasn't."

"Denying it is only going to make me angrier. You knew what you were doing. You're too fucking smart and perceptive to give me that innocent act." At seeing the hurt and anger in her eyes, he slammed the bottle down on the coffee table and got up. "You know what, this was a bad idea. I'll go."

"We haven't discussed-"

"I'll send a memo. You guys still use those, don't you?" he asked angrily as he yanked the front door open, making it hit the wall, as he left. He didn't even bother to slam it shut.

He didn't know what was wrong with him; why he had lost it with Carolyn in a matter of seconds. She was only trying to help, at least that was what he thought as he walked away from her apartment building. Maybe she wasn't trying to tease him, or hit on him. Maybe she was just trying to comfort him; trying to be a friend.

And he had panicked, like he always did.

He hoped Carolyn wasn't too upset by his behavior. He had thought he could talk about it with her, but then it all got confusing and his panic became too much. It was something he'd always done, ever since he was a kid. Women made him nervous. The difference between a comforting hand and the need for something more intimate couldn't be distinguished. Not knowing the difference terrified him. Then there was the fear that a loving touch would turn into something sinister; turn to pain.

It all made his head hurt and heart ache.

The light sprinkle of rain caught his attention as he crossed the street but he kept walking, head down, as he tried to block out the thoughts of the day. He did that by thinking about what he had asked Carolyn in the taxi. He couldn't get it out of his head. Nor could he get the fact that she said that he had to believe in people, yet she didn't believe in him. It was the story of his life.

One would think that a man who had seen most of what life consisted of, including pain, fear, disillusionment, suffering, guilt, faith, hate, peace, lies…and a whole lot of death, that nothing could get to him. That nothing could break through his barriers enough to trouble his mind and damage his soul.

He could take a lot. He could take a beating, take being lied to and betrayed, deception, rage, but one of the things he had yet to be able to handle was truth. And along with truth there laid understanding and love. Those things filled him with more pain than anything else.

Those were the only ways to hurt him. The only ways to break down his barriers and pierce his heart.

His only reasoning as to why was because those were the only things in life he had never truly experienced. And when they did come, they were so brief and sudden that they never lasted. Since they scared him so much, he didn't let himself feel them. He refused to accept them for what they were; he refused to understand what they were worth.

That was why he always panicked. Why he'd never been in anything remotely considered a meaningful relationship. Why he kept company with women he knew he could never have an intimate connection with. Women he could never love.

He turned the corner as the rain started to get heavier. Most of the women working the street were taking cover, pulling their jackets over their hands. Some were taking it all in; one in particular was staring up at the heavens, arms outstretched, as she relished in the feel of the rain through the heat of the air.

Seeing her out there surprised him because he had gotten her off the street a little over a month ago. "Renee, what're you doing out here?"

Renee dropped her arms as she looked at him. "Bobby! Isn't this rain wonderful? It's been so hot and miserable."

"You were working at a restaurant…What-"

"They fired me," she told him as she closed her jacket when she noticed her shirt was soaked.

She'd always been modest; well, as much as one could be working the streets. Bobby gave a nod as he said, "You could've come back to work at the club."

Renee hesitated as the guilt took over her eyes. Before she spoke, he already knew what she was going to tell him. "I started usin' again. That's why I got fired."

Feeling the disappointment in his chest, he took her by the arm anyway. "C'mon."

"You're still goin' try and help me? Bobby, I'm a lost cause."

"No one's a lost cause," he told her as he looked both ways before pulling her with him across the street.

They weren't more than a few feet from his building when the sirens went off. When the blue, red, and white lights lit up the street.

"Tough break, huh?" Renee softly spoke as she looked up at him.

Bobby didn't say anything as he placed his hands on the back of his head and waited.

"All you were doin' was tryin' to keep me out of trouble. I'll tell 'em that, Bobby. I'll let 'em know you were only tryin' to save me."

He closed his eyes as he felt the pain engulf his heart as his mind filled with his own plea.

God, how he wished he knew how he could keep himself from trouble. How he wished he could save himself.

The cuffs clasped around his left wrist before it was pulled around to his back to cuff the right.

"You hear that, cop!" Renee was screaming. "He wasn't going to pay me for sex or nothin'. We were gonna talk! He was going to help me get another job!"

Bobby didn't bother looking up at any of the cops or over at Renee as he was shoved into the back of the patrol car. Sighing, he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

He wished he knew how to choose between heaven and hell, good and evil. Then again he wondered, as he had before, if he could recognize the difference.

TBC…


	7. All the Sinners Saints

A/N: I forgot to say this last chapter, thank you for the reviews! Also, I had changed Bobby's Army history for this story and I finally bring in Fin Tutuila. Even though Fin is now in the story, it's not a crossover with SVU.

The name of this chapter was my original title for this story. I don't remember why I changed it.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Face forward and lift your head. Alright, hold it."<p>

He felt like flipping the cop behind the camera off as the flash went off, nearly blinding him.

"Turn to the right."

Bobby sighed and turned to his right as another shot was taken. He appeared unaffected and bored, and that was exactly what he was feeling. Spending the night in lockup wasn't ideal. After the mug shots were taken, the Sergeant who was in charge of his booking took him to be fingerprinted before producing a evidence envelope to deposit his belongings.

They had checked his pockets before putting him in the back of the patrol car, making sure he didn't have drugs or a weapon. Thankfully, since he had come from the airport, he hadn't been carrying. He put in his wallet, keys, cell phone, cigarettes and lighter, watch, and the loose change in his pockets.

"Any jewelry?"

Bobby glanced to the cop as he reached up and unclasped his chain. He pulled the chain out of his shirt before clasping it back to put it in the envelope.

"A dog tag and crucifix?"

"The only two things a person should ever wear around their neck," he said as he handed the envelope to the cop. "In case of being blown up, you'll be identified and saved."

The cop laughed as he took the envelope and wrote his information on it before handing it to the evidence clerk to store until he was released. "Let me guess, Army?"

Bobby smiled a little as he nodded. "Almost nine years. I got out after the Panama thing."

"That's when I got in," the Sergeant told him as he led him to the holding cell. "I'm a Gulf War vet."

"Yeah, I've been there too…Before everything went to hell."

"Infantry?"

Shaking his head, he told him, "Only for a short while, then I went into Special Forces...Delta." They stopped into front of the cell and he took in all the other men locked up. Saturday night, and every lowlife in Brooklyn was in holding.

"Damn, man, what happened to make you turn from serving your country to this?"

"You don't wanna know," he told the Sergeant as he stepped into the cell; he heard the slid of the door and then it being locked. Glancing back at the cop, he asked, "What about my phone call?"

"I'll get you that phone call, Mr. Donovan, but it'll be a while. Good luck," he said before walking away.

That son-of-a-bitch. If the men in that cell hadn't recognized him already, they knew who he was now. Bobby glared after the cop before looking around the cell. He doubt anyone would try to mess with him anyway, but some young punk might be stupid enough to try and make their balls by thinking they could take him down.

Spotting an empty space on a bench along the side wall, he walked over to it and sat heavily as he let out a deep breath. The guy next to him gave him a look as he scooted a little further away from him. He caught a couple of glances from some of the other men in the cell but no one looked like they were plotting anything. They appeared more scared than anything, like he might do something to one of them.

Leaning on his knees, he stared at the floor as he let his mind drift back over what he was thinking when he got arrested. The reason he didn't speak to Renee when they were taken into custody was because he'd been on a downward spiral since leaving Florida and because of that spiral, Renee had no idea that his intentions weren't as honorable as they always had been. When he saw her on that corner, he felt all the control in him break. He knew she was safe; she was clean and her choice of drug didn't involve needles.

After leaving Carolyn's, he felt an irresistible urge to self-destruct and Renee was going to help fulfill that need. He couldn't help but feel that way after what he'd done over the last couple of days. Whenever he screwed up, or whenever he had to let the darkness in him out, he would always feel the overwhelming desire to sabotage the good things in his life; he felt he didn't deserve the good for all the bad he's done.

It was only fair that he would be held accountable. If the world wasn't going to make him suffer for his misdeeds, then he would do it to himself. He would make himself suffer, and breaking his moral code of no sex with prostitutes would have certainly done the job. He would've felt more than just guilt, of being dissolute, as he let himself believe that he was no better than his degenerate father.

Rubbing at his head, he couldn't help but think how fucked up he was in thinking those things. His self-destructive tendencies lead him to believe that he deserved to be sitting right there in that jail cell. That Carolyn shouldn't forgive him for his behavior. It made him want someone to put him out of that misery.

He felt like getting into a fight just to let himself lose on purpose; the hope was that getting himself beat up would right the wrongs. Physical pain was almost as rewarding a punishment as the mental and emotional.

As he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, he heard the cell door open and then a voice from the past broke through his troubled mind.

"Ya'll are fuckin' liars, man. Wait 'til my lawyer hears 'bout this! I'm suing the entire NYPD over this bullshit!"

Bobby smirked at the heated rant of the man who'd been pushed into the cell by the same Sergeant that booked him.

"This is racial profiling! I'm a victim of my race!"

"Shut-up, Fin, no one cares about the black man anymore."

Fin jerked his head around, ready to yell at whoever said that when he saw him. At seeing him, a smile crossed the man's face as he said sarcastically, "Well, well, look at the white boy all grown up and ruling the world. What a surprise."

Bobby was chuckling as he got to his feet to embrace as his old cellmate. "Good to see you. What'd they get you for?"

"Nothin', I was an innocent black man sitting in a car."

He rolled his eyes and looked back down at Fin as he waited for the real explanation.

Fin shrugged, saying, "Auto thief."

"Let me guess, the car you were innocently sitting in wasn'tyours," Bobby said as he sat back down, but not before making the man next to him move so Fin could sit.

Fin sat as he told him, "It belongs to my girl. Last night we got into a heated argument over some stupid shit and I took off in her car when she threatened to call the cops. I didn't want no domestic on my record, but what'd she do? Calls the cops and tell 'em I stole it. Women, man, they're crazy. Who ruins a man's life over a stupid argument?"

"I hear ya," he said as he tried not to laugh.

"It's not funny. I'm on parole; this could send me back to prison."

"Well," he said as he looked over at Fin. "If I know crazy girlfriends, she'll drop the charges once the cops mention you going back to prison. She'll apologize and tell you that she'll never do it again, that she loves you. The makeup sex will be worth it and by this time next week…She'll call the cops on you again."

"Then I'll be begging them to put me back in the joint just to get away from her."

He did start laughing then and so did Fin, and some of the men who'd been eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Get your phone call yet?" Fin asked as he tried to get comfortable beside him.

It was hard to do on the small metal bench; his back was starting to hurt. "Nah, not yet. They're hoping I'll get my ass kicked while I'm waiting."

"Cops, I tell ya, Bobby, they're just as bad as us criminals they put away."

"Just as every cop is a criminal…All the sinners saints." When Fin gave him a weird look, he explained, "_Sympathy for the Devil_, the Rolling Stones."

"White boy music."

"Very good white boy music. You'll like it," Bobby told him.

"So," Fin said as he looked over at him. "That your new theme song? I heard the rumors going around about you; how the everyone on the streets call you 'the Devil'. You trying to generate some sympathy?"

"I doubt I'll get it if I were," he softly spoke as he looked around the holding cell. "I don't want sympathy. And I hate that name. No one calls me that except those around the neighborhoods. I think they do it as a scare tactic to get people to not cross me."

"Kind-of like Keyser Soze. If you start going around pretending to be a gimp…"

He could help but laugh at that as he heard the Sergeant call out, "Donovan, time for your phone call."

Bobby got up and started toward the door before turning back, asking, "If, uh…if I can get you out of here with me, join me for a drink?"

Fin smiled as he said, "Only if you buying."

Almost two hours later he was signing his possessions out of evidence. The female cop behind the counter only glared at him as she tossed him his envelope. Opening it, he dropped his stuff out onto the counter and immediately picked up his chain and put it around his neck. He checked the contents of his wallet before putting it back in his pocket, then he slid on his watch and pocketed his cell phone. He had four missed calls, all from Carolyn.

He tapped out a cigarette as he made his way to the front entrance where Fin was waiting for him. Once out into the humid night that was stifling from the rain that had poured earlier, he lit the smoke and offered it to Fin.

"Thanks, man," Fin said as he took it and looked around the sidewalk. "Who bailed us out?"

Bobby lit his own cigarette as he looked around the street. Across the street, he spotted the familiar figure leaning against the wall. The man was as tall as he was, wide built, dark hair, blue eyes and he was staring right back at him. Pointing at him, he told Fin, "C'mon, I'll introduce you."

They jogged across the street and Bobby smiled wide as he approached the man he called his brother.

"I swear, you fucking wop, if I get another phone call to bail your ass outta jail I'm disowning you."

"Ah, stop acting like such a mick, _Mick-_ey," Bobby smacked his brother on the shoulder before pulling him into a hug then stepped away. "And it's been two years since the last time."

Mickey smiled at him before addressing Fin, saying, "You must be Fin." He reached out to shake his hand. "Mickey Donovan."

"Yea, I got the sibling vibe."

Mickey looked to him and gestured toward the subway entrance. "Can we talk?"

Fin raised his hands, saying, "Hey, my name's Paul and this is between ya'll. I'll be…" He walked away from them, further down the sidewalk to give them some privacy.

Bobby walked with Mickey a few steps toward the subway before asking, "How is she?"

"Stable," Mickey said as he stopped at the top of the steps. "I'm going back up there tomorrow." He then looked at his watch, "Make that today. I can't believe you got me out here at two in the morning."

He ignored most of what he said as he only cared about his mother. "Every Sunday, right?" he asked. Mickey gave a nod and he smiled. He trusted his adoptive brother to look after his mother more than he did his biological brother. The last time he saw Frank he was stoned out of his mind and homeless. "I call at least once a month, but they won't let me visit unless it's an emergency."

"I know. She knows," he said as he looked around the street. Mickey must have seen the curious look in his eyes because he smiled a little, saying, "She's got this delusion that you're FBI undercover…Doing important work."

Bobby smiled a little and felt himself relax. "Some delusion, huh?"

Mickey gave a chuckle as he said, "The nurses get pissed at me when I reinforce her belief. She misses you, you know? We talk about you all the time, and Frank, but I don't know where he is or what he.s doing."

"Yeah, well…neither do I," he said as he dropped his head as his smile slipped away. The guilt of not being able to be there, to be the one taking care of his mother, was heartbreaking. Bobby fought to keep from walking away as he glanced back up to Mickey. "What's the verdict? Do I have a court date?"

"They dropped the charges. Insufficient evidence since no money was exchanged; plus the girl's holding to her story that your weren't paying for sex, only to talk." Mickey glared at him for a moment before telling him, "I know you want to help, and I know why, but you need to be more careful. The charges will keep piling up and you'll become a public nuisance."

"I already _am_," he said as he took a long drag off the smoke before blowing it out as he looked around the street. "But as long as you stay my lawyer, I think I've got a fighting chance."

Mickey reached out and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth. Bobby went to protest when he tossed it to the ground and stepped on it. "The smoke was bothering me."

Bobby glared at him as he said, "You could've just moved away from it."

"And cigarettes will kill ya. Why'd you want to do that to yourself?"

"'Cause if I don't I'll either become an alcoholic or go crazy. I have to ease the stress somehow," he explained as he took another one out but didn't light it. "I choose to smoke, lesser of the evils." He knew his brother was only worried and concerned about his health. Mickey's dad, Patrick, had died at 45 from cancer. It was the same year Mickey graduated college; he was the first in his family.

"Your buddy's off the hook too," Mickey suddenly told him as he gestured down the street to Fin. "I guess the complainant dropped the charges."

Bobby laughed as he looked down the sidewalk at Fin. "He'll be happy to hear it. Thanks again, Mick."

"You really wanna thank me, take me up on my dinner invitations. My girls miss their Uncle Bobby. Karen worries about you too, especially during the holidays."

He glanced down to Mickey's left hand, at the wedding ring he's worn for fourteen years, and smiled slightly as he patted his brother on the shoulder. "Give them my best, alright. Maybe 4th of July weekend, we'll do something."

"If you're not _already_ doing something, you mean."

Bobby groaned as he glanced at Mickey. He understood why he was upset with him, but it was hard to spend time with his family. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Mickey problems. He didn't want to draw the mafia's attention to Mickey, his wife and their daughters. "I'll make the time. It's a long weekend. We'll, uh…we can do a, uh, a cookout out your house. I'll even bring my girlfriend for you to meet."

Mickey looked shocked as he asked, a smiling growing on his face, "You've got a girlfriend? Who is she? Wait, she's not that girl they picked up-"

"No, God, no. She's…uh, she's one of the good guys, okay?"

"Oh," he said and then mockingly whispered, "so she's another imagined FBI agent?"

He smiled as he started to walk away. "I'll call you."

"You always say that! Hey, Bobby?"

Bobby turned around and started walking backwards as he said, "I know, I know, I'll take care of myself."

Mickey shook his head at him before giving a wave as he turned and hurried down in the subway.

As him and Fin started walking down the street, he heard Fin say, "Your brother reminds me of that actor. You know the one I'm talkin' about, in _Goodfellas_?"

"Uh, yeah, um…Ray Liotta."

"That's the guy." Fin was quiet for a moment before asking, "He's a lawyer?"

"Yeah; he used to do manly criminal cases, but not anymore. Now he works civil, uh…Family court and child custody stuff. The only reason he kept me on as a client is because we're family."

"I like him."

"He's a good guy to like," he said as he lit the cigarette. As they approached the corner, Bobby looked at Fin, telling him, "Your girlfriend dropped the charges."

"Good, 'cos I don't care how good the makeup sex is, I'm done with her crazy ass."

They didn't say much for the rest of the walk. The precinct wasn't too far from the club, a few miles, so that was where they went. Bobby needed to talk to Fin about something, and he did promise him a drink.

Jason greeted him at the door. "Evening, Mr. Donovan."

Bobby clasped Jason on the shoulder as he stepped into him, whispering into his ear, "He's a friend."

Jason gave him a nod before returning guard the door.

"Mr. Donovan?" Fin said as they walked across the main floor to the staircase.

Bobby smiled a little as he lead his friend up the steps and to his office. As he opened the door, he said, "I own this place. Didn't you see the sign with my name on it."

"Thought it was some other Donovan," Fin said as he stepped by him to enter the office. "And you got your own office and everything. Lucky bastard."

"Drink?" he asked as he walked over to the mini-bar.

"As long as its the expensive stuff."

Bobby chuckled as he poured them a drink and handed Fin a glass. Going over to his desk, he sat down and leaned back as he took a sip of the scotch. He smelled of jail and desperately wanted a shower, but the alcohol would do for now in helping him relax. Fin walked over to the window and looked out into the back lot and the rooftops of the buildings beyond. "You working?"

"I've been holding it down," he said as he took a drink. "Strugglin', but I haven't gone back to hustling if that's what you're really askin'."

He leaned on the desk and watched his friend closely as he asked his next question, "You've been using?"

Fin turned to him, looked him square in the eyes, and told him, "I haven't touched the junk since I've been outta the pen. Never again; it's not worth the time."

Giving a nod, he smiled a little because he believed him. He saw no lie coming from the once drug user and dealer. Bobby gestured to the chair across from him.

Taking the seat, Fin gave him a suspicious look as he said, "You're not going to go all Godfather on me are you? All you Italian mobsters think you're Michael Corleone or something."

Bobby rubbed at his chin as he swirled the scotch around in the glass as he regarded Fin. He didn't know why, but he always felt he could trust the man. Ever since they shared a cell in Riker's while he established his undercover persona, Fin was always someone he could rely on. "I remember that you were pretty good at running things. You were the go-to guy to get things, and, you had your own book going. It wasn't sports we were betting and money you were collecting, but your were good at the numbers game."

Fin didn't say anything to that as he just listened and slowly drank his drink.

He always liked that about the guy. Fin could be all talk all the time; he was street smart and tough, and had the walk to go along with all the talk. However, he also knew when to listen. Bobby came to a decision as he shifted in the chair and asked, "Our bookie disappeared. I mean, the guy just vanished. His cousin's alright, but he doesn't have…well, he was only running half the show. I need someone I can trust to run it all. If you want, and, you don't have to. You _can _tell me no. You're on parole and I-I, uh…I'll never make you do something you don't want-"

"I'll do it."

Bobby stopped his rambling as he heard that. Fin sat the empty glass down and gave him a smile. "You sure?"

He shrugged as he said, "What else I got to do? Besides, you're my boy. If you're offering me a job, I'll take it."

He finished off his drink as he said, "Okay," and stood. "I'll, uh…I'll put it on paper that you're my beverage manager. That'll keep your P.O. from suspecting anything."

"Beverage manager, huh? Does that mean all my drinks are free?"

Bobby laughed as he said, "Whatever you want."

* * *

><p>She was exhausted. It had been a long day; she'd gotten up a little early to do surveillance work, and then she had met Joe before working at the club all night. Her head, back, and feet all hurt and it took the rest of her energy to climb the three flights and then shuffle down the hall to the apartment. Using her key, she let herself in and immediately moaned in delight when she smelt the garlic in the air. Her stomach rumbled as she followed the scent to the kitchen and saw the box on the counter.<p>

Picking up the slice of pizza, she took a bite as she opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cold beer to go along with it.

She heard Carolyn coming down the hall as she left the kitchen and sat at the small dining table.

"Hey," Carolyn said as she saw her. "How'd it go tonight?"

"Like a prelude to Mardi Gras; there were even beads."

"I meant with the surveillance."

"I was talking about the surveillance."

Carolyn raised her eyes at that as she sat down across from her at the table. She had a plate filled with slices of pizza that she put in the middle. Taking a sip of the beer, Alex tried to relax. "How about your day?"

"Uneventful for the most part. Bobby was in Florida."

"So I heard," she said before finishing off the first piece and then grabbing another off the plate.

"Did you hear anything else?"

Alex swallowed down the food with a gulp of beer before telling her, "Only that Bobby's pretty upset about whatever happened down there. Oh…" she was reminded of the only useful information she gathered today. She opened her purse and pulled out a photograph she'd taken earlier. "Do you know this guy?" she asked as she showed Carolyn the picture she'd taken of Fin.

Carolyn looked at it and shook her head. "Never seen him; who is he?"

"A new guy; says he's the beverage manager."

"Beverage manager?"

"That's what he is legally. What he's really doing is running their book now that Jeff's missing. He goes by the nickname Fin."

"And Bobby knows him?"

"He's the one who gave him the job. They walked in together close to closing and headed right to the office. A while later, they come back down and Bobby introduced Fin to everyone, saying that he's starting Monday."

"Yeah, the club is always closed today. Bobby's number one rule: no strip-teases on Sunday."

Alex downed the rest of the bottle and got up to get another. When she spotted the wine, she grabbed it instead and headed back to the table. She was off until Monday night, and even though she still had surveillance to continue doing, she decided to give herself a little break. Going twenty-four, seven of doing nothing but work was driving her crazy. It wasn't against the rules to give themselves some down time.

At seeing her with the bottle, Carolyn said, "You read my mind. I don't mind working, but we also have to give ourselves a day off every so often. And since it is Sunday, I can tell you exactly what Bobby's doing today. Mass in the morning, ball game in the park with the boys, and then he treats his entire crew to dinner at Del Rio's."

"He does that every Sunday?"

"For the past month, yeah. I'm sure it varies with the seasons, and depending on what's going on at the time." Carolyn took a drink out of the wine bottle before handing it back to her. "I'm planning on going to the park to watch them play, you should come. You'll be able to meet more of his crew. We might even get invited to dinner."

Alex gave a nod as she swirled the bottle around. "I'm in."

"Yes!" Carolyn said as she raised her hand.

Alex laughed as they gave each other a high-five.

"Us girls are going to bring this operation to close, I can feel it. We're the key to getting it done."

"I hope you're right," she said as she thought over what she'd accomplished so far within less than a week undercover.

She knew that there was still a lot to get done and many more days and weeks to come. Her uncertainty was slowly fading thanks to Carolyn's help and camaraderie. Seeing her husband had also helped, and as long as she could keep seeing him, even in secret, she would be okay.

There was still so much she didn't know. She didn't know Bobby like Carolyn did, but later on today she would find out more. She would get to interact and it would be the first time she got to see how he was with the people he commanded.

She would bear witness to the capo.

TBC…

PS: If you saw the parallels between the way Bobby was acting with Mickey to how Frank was acting with Bobby in the episode 'Brother's Keeper', I did that for a reason.


	8. Who's Jimmy Hoffa?

A/N: If you are reading and enjoying, please leave a review, I'd greatly appreciate it! Thank you for the reviews so far!

Enjoy!

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><p>Tree coverage was lacking in the neighborhood park a few blocks from the club. It was the only park with a basketball court close to work, and where everyone in his crew, including himself, lived. The small park held only a few benches, one playground that was dated back to the '70's, and no pool. On a hot, humid day in Brooklyn like today, it made the neighborhood just that much more unbearable.<p>

As he sun grew higher in the sky, no cloud in sight, and the heat rolling off the pavement, he thought the ball would melt with each impact against the court. He'd discarded his shirt since arriving a little over two hours ago. As they approached their third game, every inch of his body was slick with a thick coating of sweat. It didn't help that Liberty was nearly on top of him, trying to knock the ball out of his left hand.

The chain around his neck kept slapping against his bare chest as his heart pounded in rhythm with the dribbling ball. Mikey came running behind him from the right and he took the opportunity to give the kid the ball. As Mikey passed behind him, and without taking his eyes off Liberty, he bounced the ball behind his back and right into Mikey's awaiting hands.

The sixteen year old took it out to the three point line with Chris right on his heels, jumping up in an attempt to block his brother's shot.

"Put it up!" Bobby yelled at the exact moment Mikey pushed off the pavement and let the ball go.

Chris got a finger on it but the ball sailed perfecting through the hoop with no net, not even chains. Mikey pumped his fist in the air as they headed back down the court and giving him a low-five as he passed.

With the three-on-three game they were playing, besides Mikey, his other teammate was Nicholas, Ralph Vincennes only son. Nicholas, or Nick, was twenty-three years old, barely six-foot, solid build with medium length black hair that he had perfectly combed and styled, and baby-blue eyes. The young man looked like he should be in Hollywood or on billboards with his stern jaw line and chiseled cheekbones. Most of the guys made fun of the kid's good looks, Bobby just thought if the guy got out of the life he could actually make something of himself. Become a model or actor. Hell, if the kid could sing, he'd be marketed as a the new Frank Sinatra with those looks.

The other team consisted of Liberty, Chris, and Eric. He found it amusing that Mikey and Chris never played on the same team unless it was two-on-two. Then he saw how well the brothers played together; it was like watching two of the greats. Bobby really hoped and prayed that the two brothers got out of the life. With the changes that happened yesterday, Mikey's induction into the league of made men wasn't going to happen next week. Instead, it was tonight at dinner.

Bobby hated it but there wasn't anything he could do. Mack made it clear that he wasn't coming back to New York until after the dust settled. The fucking coward. He was just as big, if not bigger, of a target in Florida. Since he would be gone for the duration of the war, Mack made Demarco acting mob boss.

Demarco didn't know how to run the family. The man was an idiot and no one respected him. And since he had to make his move to be head of the family, Bobby quickly realized in order to do that, he had to kill Demarco.

He wondered again if Mack set it up for that exact reason. Bobby always felt that Mack wanted him to be his successor. If that was the case, then why set him up against his brother? A brother who Mack knew hated his guts.

If he thought of it as a chess game, Mack put Demarco up in the perfect position to take him out. For Bobby, he thought he was at checkmate. If the new boss wanted him gone, he'd be gone. So, the only way to stop that was an counter-attack. He had to take out Demarco before he made his fatal move.

That scared Bobby. It scared him because it could seriously backfire. He didn't know Mack's true intentions. So, if he did kill Demarco, and Mack retaliated against him, then he would have no choice but to also kill Mack.

Or, he could just get them all sent up the river to Sing-Sing.

He had to talk to Steve again and find out what his best options were.

Liberty went for the lay-up, knocking him out of his thoughts as he knocked him backwards into the pole. He recovered his footing as Liberty stumbled down to his feet as the ball dropped through the hoop right into his hands.

Bobby took the ball out and tossed it to Nicholas as he started to jog back down the court. His knee throbbed from all the jumping and jarring and he knew it was almost time to end this game or else he'd be in serious pain later. As he caught a pass from Mikey, he spotted two women walking down the sidewalk outside the fence. It was Carolyn and Alex.

Liberty was charging, generating fouls left and right, but this was street ball so instead of calling him out on it, Bobby plowed right into the other man and pushed him back as he shoved forward while still dribbling with his non-dominate hand. Pushing off the ground, he hooked the ball over his head toward the hoop. It bounced off the rim, hit the backboard and flew up into the air before falling straight down through the hoop.

They were up 20 to 18. All they needed was one more point to win.

"You son-of-a-bitch!"

Bobby jerked his head around and saw Carolyn on the war path headed his way. He stilled as his panic spurred with the amount of anger he saw in her eyes. Shit, he thought as he held his breath and waited to see what she was going to do.

"I called you four times last night and you don't call me back!"

He stood his ground as she stepped up to him and gave him a shove on his chest. Bobby glanced around and saw all the guys laughing, whooping and hollering, as they watched.

Carolyn was right up in his face now, pointing a finger at him. "If that's the kind of woman you think I am, that you can not _call me _than you have another thing coming. I'm not some fuckin' whore!"

Bobby finally snapped out of his shock as he felt a small, amused smirk spread over his face. She was definitely raised in Brooklyn. Holding up his hands, he backed away a little before leaning forward, saying, "I'm sorry."

"You better be sorry!"

Understanding that most of this was for show, but that she was also really pissed off about him not calling her back, he did something bold and daring. He grabbed her by the front of her tight jeans, and damn were they tight, and pulled her close. Keeping his head lowered to hers, he said, "I think you've made your point. And I really am sorry, Carolyn. I…I acted like a-a, uh…"

"A jackass."

Smiling more, he said, "Okay."

"Why did you ignore my calls?"

Breathing out, he looked around at the members of his crew and Alex who was watching with an amused, yet reserved curiosity. "I was in jail." Her eyes got real big as she went to speak, but he cut her off. "I saw Renee, a girl I got off the streets awhile ago. She was back out there. The cops saw me pick her up and…." he shrugged. "I couldn't call you after that. I just…I-I thought you might be mad at me already, so…"

Carolyn relaxed, dropping her tough act for a second as she told him, "I was mad, but you could've called. I would've bailed you out."

Giving a nod, he saw the sincerity in her eyes and wondered what it could all mean. She seemed more comfortable with him with each passing day. It surprised him, yet intrigued him. The fact that she hadn't pulled his hand out from her holding the waistband of her jeans spoke volumes of the amount of trust she was giving him. He thought after last night, he'd ruined everything.

For once, he was glad to be wrong.

Carolyn seemed to snap out of it and realized where they were as she stepped back; his hand slipped from her jeans and he nearly groaned at lost of contact. She pointed at him again, saying, "This isn't over. And you're not getting rid of me so easily." She gave him a wink and walked over to the small set of bleachers and sat down next to Alex.

Liberty was laughing as he walked over to him. "She seems pleasant," he smugly mocked.

Bobby shook his head as he said, "Shut-up and take the ball out."

Liberty didn't say anything else as he walked to the sideline and tossed the ball to Eric. Bobby was right next to the kid and as soon as Eric turned toward him, he pounded the ball out of his hands and took it to the hoop, ending the game.

There was a lot of yelling after that, some booing but mostly cheering. Bobby ignored them all as he grabbed his bottle of Gatorade then walked over to Carolyn sat down next to her.

He didn't quite know what to think of Alex just yet. Their short encounter days ago lingered in his head. Alex standing on the street corner getting rained on and looking cold. Her hitting her knee on his coffee table and getting her ice. The way she would tense up at just the slightest of touches, even though they were innocent. Her sharp eyes and wit, and then the way she got tears in her eyes as he offered her money.

She seemed to fit but then again she didn't. Bobby wasn't sure if it was because she was a cop, which was one of his first suspicions when she showed up at the club, or if something else was going on. Now that she was rooming with Carolyn, he was back to thinking she was a cop. It was the only explanation that seemed to fit.

Of course, he couldn't tell Carolyn what he suspected. If Alex was in this as one the undercover officers, he wasn't going to jeopardize her mission in any way. Just as he wasn't about to tell either of them that he was FBI undercover.

"Maggie says you're doing great," Bobby told Alex as he leaned on his knees. "If you'd like, I'll let you stay on permanently."

Alex looked to Carolyn first before smiling and telling him, "Thanks, I'd love to."

Carolyn turned to him as she gestured over toward the fence-line. "Who's that guy?"

Bobby looked over at Fin and smiled. "He's an old friend. We were in prison together."

It hit Carolyn and she said, "He's the cellmate who taught you how to do tattoos?"

He nodded as he glanced at Alex, gauging her reaction. If she was surprised by any of this, it didn't show. Definitely a cop, he thought with a smirk. And judging by the fact he ran into her on the street acting as a hooker, he would say she was the undercover from Vice.

Carolyn turned away from him to say something to Alex and he smiled more. He was glad that Carolyn came out to the park today, and that she brought Alex along. They were starting to hangout, acting as friends, and hell, maybe even becoming friends. At least for him and Carolyn. He didn't think Alex would ever be his friend as long as she thought he was nothing but a harden criminal; as it should be.

Nudging Carolyn in her side and knocking her knee with his, he waited until she looked at him before smiling wider as he stood and left her staring after him as he walked away.

* * *

><p>Carolyn narrowed her eyes at his retreating back, but couldn't help the amusement she felt. This was first time she really got to experience this side of him, the teasing side, and she realized very quickly that she like it. As Bobby went over to the members of his crew and started joking around with them, she turned to Alex asking, "So," she said as she looked to Alex. "Who don't you know?"<p>

Alex looked over the group of men and said, "I know the guys who work the club; Jason, Nick, and Tony. All the others, I don't know them. Some I've seen coming and going at but I've never talked to any of them."

"Then," she said as she got to her feet, "let's go talk to them."

Carolyn settled up against Bobby as he was talking to an older looking man with graying hair. Bobby glanced to her briefly before she felt his arm around her waist.

The move shocked her for a moment but she immediately relaxed into his side as he introduced her to the man.

"Carolyn," he said, "this is Senior, Mikey and Chris's father."

She shook the man's hand as he smiled at her. As Bobby fell back into his conversation with the teens father, she noticed that Alex was talking with Nick, the oldest of the Vincennes boy. Nick was introducing Alex to some of the other members of crew who she didn't even know, except only on paper and by rep.

There was Billy Byrnes, Frank Santoro, Liberty Valentino, and the other two Ricci brothers, Jonny and Vinni. Five guys were missing: Rob, Jeremiah, George and Lou, along with their other bookie, Sal.

Bobby had informed her of the fact that Jeff had gone missing, and Sal wasn't talking; it made her wonder what had become of Jeff and Sal, and the missing money from the lost bets.

As they went to leave the park a little while later, Bobby finally introduced her and Alex to Fin.

The man was what she expected; Fin was street-smart and had the mouth to go along with the attitude. She found it very easy to like the guy. He was also extremely funny, always joking around and when he kept calling Bobby 'Shark Bite' because of his teeth, she couldn't help but tease him about it.

She had never seen Bobby blush so red.

The heat of the day was taking its toll midway through the afternoon. She could see the steam coming off every surface; how everything got that hazy look to it but no one seemed to want to go inside the club even though Bobby had unlocked the doors. Everyone was lost in their own little worlds sitting on stoops next to the building or leaning on cars talking while music of all kinds blared from open windows, children played along the street, and vendors shouted at potential customers while serving orders.

Bobby hadn't said much in the past half hour while she and Alex talked and laughed with Fin, learning about his time as Bobby's cellmate at Riker's years ago. She understood now that Bobby's and Fin friendship, despite the eight year gap, was a strong one. They had really looked after each other, protected one another, as if, as Fin put it, strangers thrown together in times of war only to leave as brothers.

She heard Bobby grumbled something under his breath as he pushed himself off the wall then disappeared into the club. She figured he was sick of the heat. Through all the music blaring out into the street, the loudest was the song '_No Rain_' by Blind Melon. Someone had fallen in love with that song as it blocked out all the others. And at the moment, she wished it would rain.

Moments later, Bobby reappeared with a huge wrench in his hand and she immediately knew what he had in mind. "Look at him," she said to everyone, making them all watch as Bobby went up to the fire hydrant. "How long before the cops come to shut it off?"

Everyone yelled at Bobby to do it, as they were excited to get the relief from the heat. Bobby used the wrench to unscrew both caps on the hydrant, releasing a spray into the air and then the one that slammed into his midsection which nearly knocked him to his ass. They all laughed but he let out a loud yell of relief as that cold water hit him.

Then he ran across the street to the other hydrant and did the same. Suddenly the block became a water fun park as kids of all ages and even the adults took to the street to take refuge in cold spray. As he walked back to the club, they all broke out in applause for the capo of the neighborhood who made it rain. Bobby just smiled as he tossed the tool to the sidewalk as he approached her.

He took her by the hand, saying, "C'mon," as he started pulling her toward the water.

"Ah! No, no, I've got my phone in my-"

Bobby took her phone out and tossed it to Alex as he kept pulling her with him. "It'll cool you off."

"And make me all wet."

The look on Bobby's face had her laughing. That man's mind had gone right to the gutter with that innocent statement. Men, she thought with the shake of her head but she'd stopped struggling as she felt the drops pouring down on her. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh as the smoothing heat on her skin eased.

Tilting her head up, she felt like a child standing in the rain, staring up at the sky as it came down on top of her.

She heard commotion all around and when she looked, she saw everyone, including Alex playing in the water. Her and Fin had clicked right away, and besides Nick, he seemed to be the only one Alex seemed at complete ease with.

The song changed, ending the grunge rock vibe, and was replaced by Led Zeppelin's '_All of My Love_'.

"Love this song," Bobby whispered in her ear, causing her to look at him.

The moment her eyes caught his her breath caught. He'd been watching her the whole time. His dark brown eyes were taking her in and she was shocked at the amount of emotion she saw darkening his depths. This was getting more dangerous, she told herself as his hand gently held her waist; she felt his fingers run along the hem of her tank-top, along her skin. It was like she was stuck in a trance, she couldn't look away, couldn't move, and she was highly aware of the fact that she didn't want to.

Finding her voice, all she could say was, "Me too."

Bobby's lips twisted up as his eyes dropped down, roaming over her chest, her body, and then down her legs to her open toed heels she'd worn and then back up. As he recaptured her eyes with his, he asked, "D-do, uh…do you got plans for next weekend?"

Carolyn was knocked out of the trance at his question. She took in a deep breath, swallowed hard, and then smiled. "What'd you got in mind?" she asked right back, teasing him for real this time, making him smile wider in the process.

"A cookout, with my brother Mickey and his family."

Carolyn didn't know what to say to that, but she managed a nod. She knew the reason it had silenced her was because it seemed like such a thing that a real couple would do. Settling her rapid breathing, it took all her strength to not freak out. She had never met anyone's family before, real boyfriend or not.

He tilted his head down to hers and softly asked mere inches from her face, "Are you okay?"

She felt his breath on her cheek, saw the way his eyes soften as if he wanted to lean further in. Finding her voice, she said, "I wasn't expecting that, is all."

Bobby suddenly looked apologetic as he looked down to the soaking ground. "Yo-you, uhm, you don't have to. I wa-was only-"

"No, it's okay. Isn't it?" she asked with a wave of uncertainty in her voice. This was her job, she told herself. She was supposed to go with him for things like this, act as his girlfriend, so why was she having feeling like an insecure teenager?

He seemed just as unsure as she did and that only relieved her worry more. Bobby, she realized, was just as scared, just as insecure. The thought of them understanding each other reemerged in her mind, making her think that it was beyond the professional where that understanding laid. As if their understanding was more personal than that, more intimate.

That they were more alike than she wanted to let herself believe. If she let herself believe it then she would have to accept that she was falling for this man.

"Yeah," he said, "I think it is."

Carolyn nodded but moved away and felt his hand slip from her side. She rarely let her emotions get to her; having learned to separate her heart from her mind years ago, and found that she had to get away quickly before she lost it completely. Before her emotions overruled what her mind was telling her.

"I'm going to grab a drink."

For a brief moment, as she walked away, Bobby looked like a little boy; completely afraid and lost, uncertain of anything, before he blinked and it was gone.

She turned around and headed for the club as she struggled to find her emotional footing. As tried to remain completely objective and detached; it wasn't working.

* * *

><p>Walking along the marina off West 79th along the Hudson, he searched out the boat named <em>Moby's Mr. Johnson. <em>Bobby was reminded how much he liked his friend's sense of humor. He found the boat and stepped up on it as he looked around; the engine hatch was open and he smiled as he stepped into the cabin.

"So, this is what Moby's dick looks like. Width is good, but it's kind-of small. I was expecting something longer."

He heard Steve laughing from down below and then he saw him toss a screwdriver out onto the deck. "I knew you'll love it."

Peering over the open hatch, he looked down and saw Steve wiping his greasy hands on a rag. "But can it perform is the question."

Steve tilted his head back and stared up at him. He then hit a few buttons as he told him, "Start it up and find out."

Bobby sat down in the coxswain's seat and turned one key for the port motor. The light went red and he turned it all the way until it roared to life and the light went green. He did the same for the starboard motor and smiled when everything came to life on the boat. When he heard Steve coming up behind him, he said, "Freud would say that you have penis envy."

Steve laughed out loud as he sat down next to him. "Freud was a whacko obsessed with sex. Much like a certain friend of mine."

Bobby glanced to him as he said, "I'm not obsessed with sex."

"You would be if you got any," Steve threw right back.

Bobby wanted to laugh but couldn't. He thought back to Carolyn and he felt an aching in his body he hadn't felt in years.

"Ah, shit. Who is it?"

Shaking his head, he looked around and asked, "Got anything to drink?"

"Beer in the cooler; grab me one while you're at it."

Bobby flipped the lid off the cooler on the back deck and pulled out two cans. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Steve walking out and tossed him one.

Steve caught it as he stared at him for a long moment; he then sighed heavily. "You dog, you like her. That's why you wanted to tell her who you really are."

Bobby blushed as he stared out over the Hudson River, toward the bay, and took a couple sips of the beer.

"Shit," Steve groaned as he popped the can open and downed a few big gulps. "I should've suspected. Damn, I don't blame you. She's beautiful and you haven't had a real date or chance at a relationship in eight, nine years." He sighed and stared at him for a long moment. "If it ever comes down to it that you have to tell her, that your life depended on it…"

Bobby stared at his friend as he asked, "You two haven't?"

Steve was confused for a moment before his eyes got real big. "What? No."

"But you tried?" Bobby knew he did; Steve barked up every tree within sight, and he had the nerve to call him a dog.

Steve looked away from him, toward the city as he said, "At dinner yesterday, but she wasn't going for it." He paused as the guilt crept up in his cheeks, then told him, "She threw her drink in my face."

Bobby let out a laugh as he remembered what he and Carolyn joked about last night at the airport. "Good for her." Now, he respected her even more.

It was hard for him to admit that he really liked Carolyn. That he was letting himself connect with her emotionally. He had shut himself down for so long that the idea of something remotely intimate terrified him.

Sitting on the edge of the stern, he rubbed at his head as he got his thoughts in order and forced Carolyn from his head. Bobby needed to talk about what happened in Florida; he needed to know what to do.

"She called me this morning, said you didn't tell her what happened in Florida. That you were pretty upset."

He stared at the deck as he nodded. He took a breath and then told him everything. Told him about Mikey being made tonight, about Mack promoting Demarco to acting boss, about Mack being pissed at hell with him for not working something out with the Irish.

He didn't tell Steve that he suspected that Mack already knew he wouldn't be able to work something out. Why else would Mack go to Florida instead of conducting the meeting himself? He could have been there and then gone to Florida. It was like he was trying to set something up, things in motion, without being the one held accountable. It was all very confusing to him, but he thought that Mack wasn't telling him everything. That there were power plays being made behind the scenes and he wasn't being let in on it.

When he was done, Steve asked, "What're you willing to do about it?"

It wasn't 'what do you _want_ to do', but 'what areyou _willing_ to do'. Bobby stared at the agent, his friend, as he said, "I'm prepared to do whatever I've got to for this operation to succeed."

"Which is?" Steve pressed.

Bobby got up as he stared pacing around; he didn't like it that the first thoughts he had was to kill. The demands of the job had made him so acceptable to that idea, to performing that task, that something he rarely thought twice about it. "At first, I thought I had to kill him. Then, I got to thinking…why not just turn him over to you. I'm sure Demarco will deal; he'll have a lot to offer up in order to save himself."

Steve was quiet as he leaned against the cabin wall of the boat and thought. Finally, he said after he finished the beer, "That can work. We'll pull a 'Jimmy Hoffa' like we did with Ralph. Some place as before, just let me know when and what time. Ha," he laughed, "pretty soon we'll have all the Vincennes boys in federal custody. Make them all disappear off the face of the earth by putting them in Leavenworth."

Bobby felt relieved as he downed the rest of the beer in his can. Tossing it away in the trash bag he had, he said, "See you around, and thanks."

Steve only gave him a mock salute as he left the boat without another word and headed for his car.

* * *

><p>He couldn't get the sermon out of his head from morning mass. It was about the power of unity. Unity, the Priest had said, is strength. That it wasn't about unity in uniformity, but unity in diversity. He liked that idea a lot.<p>

However, that was something he had a hard time accepting. Being on his own seemed to be the only way he got anything done. It was one of the reasons he was a lone wolf undercover agent. He didn't work well with others. Presenting a unified front was never his specialty seeing how he was the only one on his side.

All that changed when he become capo of the Brooklyn neighborhood. He had to work with everyone. He had to become their leader, their friend, and their confidant. It was up to him to unify his crew and lead them to victory. Whatever in the hell that was. Anything but death?

So, he was a little nervous, and terrified, that he had to promote a sixteen year old to soldier status. Never in his years as capo did he have to do something like this. A grown man was different. They were men, experienced, and they had already ruined their lives with many years of working in this life with the family.

But Mikey, the kid didn't even know how to shoot a gun. Pouring himself another drink, he took a sip as he felt someone come up beside him. Turning, he stilled as he saw it was Carolyn. Her dark curly hair was pulled up loosely, letting stray strands of hair fall along the side of face; the black dress she had wore was different from the one she'd worn to the club. Instead of ending at her knees, this one went all the way down to her calves. Taking in the high-heels, he nearly groaned but somehow resisted. The woman was driving him absolutely out of his mind.

Bobby realized that he was blatantly checking her out, roaming his eyes over her body and legs. Shaking his head, he stepped back as he rubbed his eyes. "Sorry."

Carolyn twisted her lips up, teasing him, saying, "Don't be. I'm glad I'm able to catch you off guard."

He chuckled as he took a sip of the scotch as he looked out over the dining room. Every Sunday, the private room in the back of Del Rio's was reserved in his name. There were three long dining tables, usually there were only two, so that there would be enough seats to accommodate thirty people. A full bar, a refreshment table with an assortment of appetizers and drinks, and two huge doors that blocked out all sights and sounds from the rest of the restaurant. Specifically the head chief of the restaurant, who was a 'good friend' of Mack's, catered to them.

Carolyn took a wine glass then looked around the bar.

Bobby smiled as he gestured to the bottles, "Bottle of red…bottle of white?"

She chuckled as she reached for the red but he stopped her with a light touch on her wrist. Bobby picked up the bottle and unscrewed the cork before pouring her a drink. Alex approached them and also took a wine glass. Smiling, he gestured with the bottle.

Alex held out the glass, saying, "This is some shindig. You do this every Sunday?"

"Even on holidays," Bobby said as he left the cork off the bottle and put it back. It was best to let the wine breathe. Picking up his glass, he looked around at everyone gathering as he took a bigger gulp of the scotch.

Tonight it wasn't just the members of his crew at dinner, but the four other mob bosses along with their under-bosses. Hence why there was another table. The initiation ritual was simple enough but it took a lot of courage to stand around a group of bosses and plead loyalty for life. It always reminded him of joining the Army; of the day he stood in a room and recited allegiance to his country.

"Excuse me," he told the women as he headed out of the room and out of the restaurant.

Out on the sidewalk, he grabbed a quick smoke as he took in the street. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary; nothing indicating that there was a threat. Standing outside the doors were a couple of soldiers from the Masucci and Carpino families. He guessed they weren't invited to dinner. As he watched them stand guard, he spotted a familiar three-some walking from down the block.

Mikey Sr. was in front as Mikey and Chris trailed behind, talking to each other. He extended his hand to the father as he approached. "Good evening, Senior."

He would've smile he was sure if he hadn't seen the look on his face. "What's going on, Mr. Donovan."

Breathing out the smoke, he led him over to the side of the building as he told Mikey, "Hey, Mikey, don't go in yet. I need to talk to you." Then he turned to his father as he told him, "They're in there."

Senior paled as he muttered under his breath. "I thought it was next week."

"Mack changed his mind now that we're at war." Bobby tried not to show his regret, but he was deeply hurting for the man, and for Mikey. The only good thing, he kept telling himself, was that he was the kid's boss.

He heard a car pull up and when he looked he stared as Demarco was let out of the back by his driver. Demarco caught his eyes and he stared right as he adjusted his suit jacket and went into the restaurant.

"What the hell's going on?"

Bobby stuck the smoke back in his mouth as he glanced at Mikey Sr. No one, except for the bosses and under-bosses, knew that Demarco was now their acting boss. "Don't worry about that." Because soon, he thought as he ushered Senior away and sending him inside, Demarco would only be a memory.

Seeing Mikey standing along on the sidewalk, Bobby waved him over. The kid was wearing a nice suit, second-hand, and most likely one of Chris's old ones, and the tie was a little crooked from him messing with it. Reaching out, he adjusted the tie until it was straight, telling him, "Plans changed, Mikey." At the look of concern on the teen's face, he said, "You're becoming a made man tonight."

Mikey went still as he stared wide at him. "But my dad said-"

"I know, but…fuck," he said as he let the tie go. Bobby took out the cigarette and blew out the smoke as he waited for him to calm down. Once he did, he asked, "Do you know what's going to happen?"

He shrugged, saying, "I gotta recite the oath and that's it, right?"

Bobby rolled his eyes as he said, "There's more to it than that. When yo-you, uh...when you first walk in there," he said as he held Mikey's eyes and explained the process, "all the bosses and under-bosses will be waiting. Make sure you shake all their hands, okay. Hold your head up, look them straight in the eyes when you greet them. They gotta see that not only you're a man for this, but you're respectful, and proud that you've been chosen."

Mikey gave a nod as he listened. "Okay, I can do that."

"I'll be the last one you shake hands with. Normally, Demarco would be, but I-I, uh, I asked Mack if I could do it and he agreed."

"Do what?" Mikey asked confused as he stared at him.

"I have to cut your hand."

"You gotta cut me! With what?"

Bobby wrapped his arm around the kid's neck and walked with him toward the alley. "Calm down. Breathe before you pass out."

Mikey took a breath as he tried to calm down. "Sorry, Bobby."

"In there, you better call me Mr. Donovan."

"Right," Mikey said with a small smile. "Mr. Donovan."

Bobby patted him on the chest, saying, "You'll be fine. Just relax. The cut on your hand is going to be small, like a-a, uh, a paper cut."

"Shit, those are the ones that hurt the most," Mikey muttered and then caught himself. "Sorry."

Bobby just laughed. "It's okay, cussing's allowed. It's practically a rule." That seemed to ease Mikey's tension a little, and he also found himself relaxing. "So, with the blood from the cut, you'll smear it on a picture of Saint Adrian."

"The patron saint of soldiers?"

"Right, and then you'll put the picture over a candle, igniting it, and then drop it into the bowl next to the candle. You'll say the oath of loyalty as it's burning."

"All this old country shit's weird. It's like I'm joining a cult."

"The cult of the mafia."

Mikey smirked as he looked down the street. His expression grew more serious as he asked, "Do I have to kill someone?"

Bobby took a long drag off the cigarette as he looked at him. Mikey got his answer and he swallowed hard. "The next hit that's ordered will be yours," he finally told him. "Murder is the only way to make your stones in this business, Mikey."

Mikey gave him a look as he told him, "Thank you, Mr. Donovan. Can I have a minute before I go in?"

"Sure, but don't be too long. You don't want to appear lazy by being late." Bobby took one last drag off the cigarette before putting it on the side walk with his boot.

He headed back to the front entrance to the restaurant with a heavy heart and mind.

Mikey wasn't gone long as he walked into the private room only a couple minutes after he did. Bobby was impressed; the teen held it together and did everything he told him to do. The only time he saw Mikey sweat was when he was reciting the oath, but it could've been from the heat of the candles he was standing over.

Then dinner was served, wine was poured, and he excused himself as he went out the side door to the staircase that led up to the roof. It was safer than the alley. Once on the roof, he lit a smoke, stuffed his right hand in his pocket, and stared out over the neighborhood. He needed time alone to think, to process everything that had gone on that day and to formulate a plan of action.

The door opened behind him and when he turned, he saw Carolyn standing there in that damn dress. She walked slowly over to him and looked over edge of the roof and down toward the street. Her eyes then took in the neighborhood around them and the city beyond.

"What a sight, huh?" she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Bobby couldn't take his eyes off her as he slid his jacket off. There was cool breeze and he could see how she was cold. As he draped his jacket over her shoulders, he said, "Beautiful."

Carolyn looked up at him and noticed his eyes on her. Her hands clenched at the jacket, pulling it around her, as she peered up at him.

She had that same look from earlier, when they were on the street. Her brown eyes were lit up; open and willing. He felt his tough exterior crumbling right along with hers; the more time they spent together, the harder it was going to be to stay in control. He could never remain objective where it came to women, he knew sooner or later his desire was going to win. It was human nature.

And right then, he had the strongest desire to kiss her. It would've been perfect. She even looked like she wanted him too. If he started, there would be no stopping. He wouldn't be able to just steal one kiss and let it be. Best to walk away; and in the end that was what he did.

He finished his cigarette and as he put it out, he glanced up at her, saying, "C'mon, I'm hungry. You?"

Carolyn smiled wearingly as she followed. He held the door and let her go ahead of him back down to the restaurant. Before they entered the room, she gave him back his jacket without a word.

For the rest of the evening, Bobby didn't say a word. He had a few more drinks, smoked a few more cigarettes, and just watched. Carolyn and Alex were nearly connected at the hip as they talked amongst themselves and with several members of his crew. Mikey was the center of attention for most of the evening as everyone congratulated him. Some even gave him envelopes filled with cash, like they did with everyone who got made. With how much he was collecting, he'd be able to afford a car to go along with his fake driver's license.

Bobby kept an eye on Demarco; wherever the boss went, his eyes followed. He'd felt paranoid at first, but knew he had good reasons. If Demarco wanted, he could pull his gun right there and shoot him, no questions asked. No retaliation.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and when he took a quick glance to see who it was, Bobby immediately straightened in the chair. The man who sat down next to him was Vito Luciano, the head of the Caprino family.

"Mr. Luciano," Bobby said as he greeted the mob boss. "How are you, sir?"

"Relax, Bobby," Vito said as he squeezed his shoulder before letting go. "And I'm doing well, thank you."

Bobby had to strain to hear the man talk as he only spoke above a whisper to anyone. He had thought the boss did it at first to draw people closer to kill them; which he'd done before but that wasn't why he spoke that way. Vito had always been, according to his mother, a soft talker.

"I've been watching you all night. Watching you, watching him," Vito made a gesture toward the direction he'd been looking.

Bobby glanced to Demarco and then looked back at the boss.

Vito never took his eyes off his as he told him, "I know what you're thinking. The commission usually doesn't allow such thoughts, Bobby."

He looked to the table as he felt the fear stir in his chest, in his head, as he too that in. Bobby glared up at Demarco as he talked lively, and privately, with Mikey's father. The acid in his gut burned as the thought more about Demarco and what he might be planning. He might not be trying to kill him after all; Demarco might be planning to take Mikey away from him, give him to another capo in a different borough.

Bobby looked back to the boss as he took a sip of the scotch in his hand.

"You're not alone in your dislike," Vito sincerely told him.

It clicked in Bobby's head what Vito had said earlier, that the commission _usually_ didn't allow such thoughts. Did that mean they were making an exception?

"If your thoughts turn to action, you have our blessing."

Bobby stared at the boss as if he was speaking a foreign language. He was being given the okay to kill another mob boss. One of their own. A made man. He knew better than to ask why, so he accepted what was said with a nod then asked, "Mack?"

Vito looked away, shrugged as he said, "We'll make him understand."

_I bet you will. _Bobby looked away from Vito as he eyed the two men in deep conversation. Whatever Demarco was saying to Senior, the father wasn't liking it very much. "Can I ask you a favor?" Vito gave a gesture for him to go ahead and ask, so he did. "If Mack does…,uh, _disagree_, I want to be the one to make him understand."

Vito rubbed at the stubble on his chin for a moment then said, "Done."

"Thank you, Mr. Luciano."

Vito patted him on the shoulder as he got up and buttoned his suit jacket. Looking down at him, he said, "You'll make a great boss, Bobby. I can't wait to do business with you."

_You'll make a great boss. _He stared after the mob boss as he left along with his under-boss. There was no doubt in his mind that they wouldn't be back. As if on cue, the Masucci's boss and under-boss left as well, leaving only him, his crew, Carolyn, Alex, and Demarco.

Bobby got up, buttoned his suit jacket, and headed to the men's room. As soon as he was inside, he pulled out his cell and placed a call. He got the voicemail and left a quick message. "Tonight, one hour. I'll be waiting." Flipping the cell closed, he thought a moment and then flipped it right back open and placed another call.

"Yeah."

"Hey, uh…meet me out front. Bring Alex."

Hanging up, he went over to the sink and turned on the cold water. His hands were shaking as he reached under to cup some water. Splashing his face, he felt himself cool down. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he dried his face with a paper towel then tossed it in trash as he left.

He turned toward the front entrance instead of the private room and there he found Carolyn along with Alex waiting for him. Bobby smiled slightly at the sight of the two women. His eyes strayed to Carolyn but he approached Alex and extended a hand. "Thank you, for coming. I hope you had a good time."

"It was good, and thank you, Mr. Don-"

Waving her off, he said, "Please, Alex, you don't have to call me that. I've had enough of that for one evening." Bobby saw her ease a little and she smile as he dropped her hand. "Um, you're welcome anytime. I mean that."

Alex stared up at him as she said, "Good to know. At least now I've got dinner plans for Sundays."

Bobby looked to Carolyn as he told her, "I would, uh…take you home, but I've got business to discuss."

Carolyn realized why he had summoned them out to the street; a look of concern and then resignation filled her eyes as she said, "Okay. We can walk. It's not that far."

"Not alone, uh…I'll have someone go with you," Bobby said as he looked over and saw Fin leaning against the wall talking with Liberty. "Hey, Fin!" He waved him over as he told her, "If anything happens, shoot first and call me second," he teased as Fin stopped next to him.

"Who we shootin'?"

Bobby smiled a little as he told him, "No one. Could you walk these two ladies home, please."

"No problem. I was about to head out myself."

"Got a date with the crazy ex?"

Fin glared at him but didn't say anything as he turned to Carolyn and Alex. "Don't worry, I'm nicer than this guy," he said as he pointed at him.

Alex hesitated but started to walk side-by-side with Fin as Carolyn held back for a moment. Stepping up to him, she said, "Be careful."

"Always am."

Bobby watched as they walked to the corner before going back toward the entrance. He pulled out his car keys and handed them to Liberty, telling him, "Pull my car around back."

Liberty didn't even ask who or why as he did as he was ordered.

Bobby walked through the lobby with beads of sweat coating his neck. Rubbing along his neck, he tried to ease the tension that had built over the course of the evening to no avail. He mind was going through every scenario, every move, every thing that could go wrong. Through all his racing thoughts, he was feeling nothing but anxiousness. He thought that Demarco wouldn't be around for long as boss, he just had no idea it'd only be for a day.

This was part of his mission, he told himself. It had to be done. In order to protect himself through whatever retaliation from the Irish would come, he had to unify this family. They all respected him, relied on him, and trusted him. He would make a great boss, and because of this, he would bring the entire mafia organization down.

Bobby stepped into the private room, turned and softly shut and locked the door without causing any disturbance. His heart was pounding in his chest as he reached up and undid his tie.

Jonny, Vinni, and Rob stilled with drinks raised to their mouths as they saw him. Eric, Chris, Mikey and Nicholas who were laughing, stopped. Santoro wiped the bar top clean and then re-wiped it as he watched him cross the room. Billy, Jason, Jeremiah, and Tony all stopped their conversation at the bar as they turned to look at Demarco who was still talking to Senior. George and Lou, who were always the quiet ones, stood in the far corner and watched, waited.

Bobby slid the tie from around his neck as he heard the side door open. Liberty stepped in and gave him a nod. He nodded back as he took two more steps toward Demarco as he wrapped the ends of the tie tightly around his hands, leaving a big enough space between to put around a man's neck.

Demarco didn't even have a chance to react as he circled the tie around his neck and pulled tight. The glass that had been in his hand slipped from his fingers as he reached toward his neck. Bobby dragged him kicking and struggling to breathe toward the side door, down a hall that led to the back door, and then out into the alley.

Liberty was right behind him to open the truck that was covered with plastic; it wouldn't be needed since he wasn't going to shoot the boss.

"Zip-ties?" Bobby asked as he pushed Demarco's unconscious body down into the truck. He used his tie to gag the man then let Liberty secure Demarco's slack hands behind his back using the zip-tie. Then he shut the lid as softly as he'd done the door.

"What if he starts kicking?"

Bobby looked back and saw Mikey standing at back door. Shaking his head, he told him as he walked around the side of the car, "Not this time."

"But-"

"You're not coming, Mikey," he glared at the kid. "Help get your dad home; he's been drinking all night."

"Where're you taking him?" Liberty asked. "I'll come-"

"I'm going alone," Bobby told him as he opened the door and went to ease into the driver's seat.

"Why?"

"Ask Jimmy Hoffa."

Through the open window he heard Mikey ask, "Who's Jimmy Hoffa?"

Bobby didn't bother answering as he started the Plymouth Road Runner and then eased it slowly out of the alley and into the street.

TBC…


	9. Enjoy Your Freedom, While It Last

A/N: So, I watched the movie 'Donnie Brasco' for the first time. If you haven't seen it, check it out. It doesn't get any better than Al Pacino and Johnny Depp. Anyway, watching that movie got my creative energy flowing again for this story.

Also, I deeply apologize for the long delay in updating. I want to finish this story. I really love this story. It's different and it's fun and challenging, so I'm all over it. However, it's going to be slow in coming. I'm still here and I'm not abandoning this story anything soon. And by all means, if you have thoughts, ideas, suggestions, please let me know. I'm open to ideas. Thank you.

Okay, enjoy!

* * *

><p>Carolyn gave him a once over as he opened the passenger door for her to get in. At seeing the smirk on her face, he asked, "What?"<p>

"Nothing, just never seen you looking so 'boy next door'. For acting mob boss, you look very domesticated."

Bobby looked down at his clothes and felt confused. He was wearing a pair of sneakers, cargo shorts, and a black t-shirt under a short-sleeve flannel. "Were you expecting something more gansta?"

She gave a laugh as he shut the door and rounded to the driver side. Once in the car, and on their way to Staten Island, Bobby told her, "Relax, okay. It's just my brother and his family."

Carolyn was surprised as she asked, "How'd you know I was nervous?"

Bobby glanced over at her as he said, "You've been staring out the window and biting your thumb since I started driving. And your laugh, it was shaky…like, uh, like you were trying too hard to make this seem normal."

"This is supposed to seem normal," she told him. "We're supposed to seem like a couple, and a cookout with family is a normal thing people do."

Bobby took in her uncertainty, her nerves, and something clicked in his head. Taking a look over at her, he said, "You've never done this before, have you?"

"I have, but not since I was a kid." Carolyn was silent a moment before telling him, "We used to go camping, have fishing trips, cookouts, but I think I was nine the last time."

"But, it was just you. Right? No siblings?"

Carolyn shook her head and left it at that. Bobby could tell she was getting uncomfortable, and he could have pushed for more information but didn't. If she wanted him to know, she'd tell him.

"How about you?"

Bobby shrugged as he asked, "You mean besides the huge buffets and parties that the family puts together?"

"Yeah," Carolyn said, "I'm not asking about the mob family, but about your family. Do you and Mickey do this often?"

"Oh, then no," he answered as they hit the bridge that lead from Brooklyn to Staten Island. "The closest I've been to a regular family cookout were the neighborhood block parties. The only time I've done something close to be considered camping, was in the Army. You know, sitting around a fire, eating MRE's, and clutching our M16's…That kind-of thing."

This had been the most they've talk in the past six days, since that night at Del Rio's. Since that Sunday night, they hadn't spent a lot of time together. Carolyn had been MIA for a few days, dealing with the Demarco situation and conferring with the bureau on the new developments; she had only been back since Wednesday. He had also been busy all week with meetings and another short trip to Florida to have another talk with Mack.

Mack had reigned over the family for twenty years and he was nearing sixty years old, and there was the matter of his health. Besides Brenda and Mack's bodyguards, Bobby was the only other person who knew the real reason Mack had gone to Florida; the mob boss was undergoing chemotherapy. Mack's time was numbered and he was considering retirement, which he advised him was the best thing.

While in Florida, his suspicions were confirmed. Mack had told him that putting Demarco in charge was a test. That Mack wanted to see if he had it in him to take over the family, to do what was necessary and what was right, and that meant eliminating Demarco. Bobby didn't know why Mack had setup his own brother, but he figured it had to be for a good reason.

Despite the changes, Mack was still head of the family but now with Bobby as acting boss until something was definitive. Until Mack either retired, came up missing himself, or ended up dead.

"Shouldn't you have like a group of bodyguards hanging around you now or something?"

Bobby glanced over at her and smiled a little. "I thought you were my bodyguard?"

She just rolled her eyes at him, causing him to laugh.

They didn't speak again for the remainder of the drive. Bobby had never been to Mickey's house on Staten Island. Whenever he saw his adopted brother since going undercover, it had been in the city at a restaurant or in court. Before then, Mickey had and his family had lived in a small apartment in Queens. The house on Staten Island was a nice two-story Victorian on the corner of a quiet neighborhood lined with trees and landscaped lawns.

"Looks like something out of the _Home & Garden _magazine."

Bobby pulled up into the driveway and gave a nod as he turned the engine off but didn't make a move to get out of the car. He could feel Carolyn's eyes on him as he sat in the seat and stared up at the porch and front door. The last thing he wanted to do was bring ill-will, or worse, to his brother's doorstep, and that was what he felt he was doing. He felt that just his presence on that island was enough to cause Mickey and his family problems.

"You coming?"

He looked over and saw Carolyn holding the passenger door open, staring in at him. Bobby pulled the keys from the ignition and finally opened the door. As he walked up the walk to the porch, he felt Carolyn step up beside him and then her hand on his arm. Looking over at her, he saw her eyes taking in the house and the neighborhood around them, completely unaware that she was holding his arm to keep in line with him.

Carolyn was startled when he took a hold of her hand to take it off his bicep. She realized that she was hanging onto him as he curled her fingers and moved her hand down to his side. Never taking his eyes off her, he put her hand in his and then gripped it lightly as he led them up the steps to the front door.

"Couples still hold hands, don't they?"

"None that I've ever been in, but I'm sure some still do."

Bobby smiled slightly at her dry wit as he leaned on the doorbell before opening the screen door to knock. The silence that hung between him and Carolyn was shattered as the door flung open to reveal a young girl with dark hair and blue eyes.

The moment the girl saw him, she squealed so loud it hurt his ears before she rushed into his arms. "Uncle Bobby, you made it!"

Bobby was shocked that the young girl was tall enough to hug him without picking her up. Then he remembered that he had last seen Rebecca, Mickey's oldest daughter, when she was ten. In a few months she would be fourteen. He looked to Carolyn as his niece clutched to him and he saw the smirk on her face.

"Who're you?" Rebecca asked Carolyn and Bobby immediately ducked his head as he introduced the two.

"Uh, Rebecca, this is-is, uh, Carolyn…Carolyn, my niece, Rebecca."

"Nice to meet you, and it's Becca. No one calls me Rebecca except for him," the fourteen year old corrected as she lead them into the house.

As Carolyn greeted his niece, Bobby shut the door and looked around the interior of the house. It was very homely and felt comfortable, like a home should. Before him was the long hallway that led to the kitchen and the staircase that led up to the second floor. To his right was the family room that looked well used. Big comfy couches, big screen TV, shelves filled with DVD's, bookcases filled with books and games and family photos, a coffee table littered with the newspaper and magazines, and a game console was stretched halfway across the floor with the controllers on resting unused on the sofa.

To his left was another room with a fireplace, more bookcases, couches and chairs, but no television, however it did have a stereo system against the far wall along with tons of CD cases and vinyl records filling the shelves. He could hear talking coming from down the hall in the kitchen, along with the aroma of fresh coffee and food cooking. Further down the hall, and to the left, under the staircase, was the entrance to the dining room. A long table seated for six, filled the room along with two cases that encased a China set of dishes and various decorative figurines.

"Mom, dad, Uncle Bobby's here," Rebecca called out once they entered the kitchen. "Megan, come say hi!"

Bobby stopped just inside the kitchen as he spotted Mickey's other daughter helping her mother at the stove. The last time he had seen Megan, she was seven and barely cleared the top of a chair. Now, she was tall enough to help cook. Damn, he was getting old. He smiled at the young girl with dark red hair and bright blue eyes who looked back at him and smiled shyly; having been so young since last seeing him, he figured the girl was too shy to attack him like Rebecca had done.

Karen, however, smiled wide as she stepped over and gave him a tight hug. "God, Bobby, it's been too long. How've you been?"

"I'm good," he simply told her as he stepped away once she let him go. "Uh, Karen, this is…" Bobby turned to Carolyn as he introduced them, "Carolyn."

The two women shared a brief hug as he searched for his brother. Bobby spotted him out the backdoor on the deck, firing up the grill.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"A beer," he and Carolyn both said in unison. Bobby smiled at her as she looked up at him.

Leaning into him, Carolyn admitted, "I don't do well with kids."

Bobby chuckled as he took the offered beer from his sister-in-law, saying, "Neither do I, that's why I'm going outside, c'mon."

Carolyn followed him out the sliding door that lead onto the back deck. The yard was huge with a pool, swing set, and a chain fence to the right that belonged to the neighbor. Mickey didn't have a fence around his yard and it sloped down to the sidewalk.

Mickey heard the door open and turned toward them. "Hey, hey, look who made," he exclaimed as he pulled him into a hug. "About time." He let go as he saw Carolyn. "And you must be the girlfriend; hi, I'm Mickey."

"Carolyn," she said as she went to shake his hand when Mickey pulled her into a hug, catching her off guard.

Bobby chuckled at her look; she was just as overwhelmed as he was. This loving family thing was something he had never gotten used to.

* * *

><p>Since Carolyn was going with Bobby to Staten Island for a family cookout, then she had made arrangements with Joe for them to have a day to themselves. They had met early in the morning at their bar before driving upstate to a lake house Joe's father had left for his son.<p>

It was a beautiful day on the lake with not a single cloud in the sky. She stood on the dock as Joe got the boat ready to take out on the lake. There were coolers stocked with plenty of drinks and food to last them the whole day out on the water. He had a couple of fishing poles he'd brought along and she couldn't wait.

"Alright, baby," Joe said as the motors roared to life. "Let's go!" he got out and helped her get the coolers in the boat before getting behind the wheel.

As the wind blew through her hair, and the sunlight tanned her skin, she felt herself relax. The past week had been a crazy, and scary one, with Bobby Donovan taking over the family. The night Demarco had come up missing after they left the restaurant, she had known who was behind it. She was a little worried for Carolyn going off with Bobby on her own, but she had reassured her that she would be fine, and that the FBI would be watching.

She had to remind herself that Donovan, and everyone he was with and who were in his crew, were constantly under surveillance. Wiring-tapping was going on all over the place: in the club, in the restaurant, possibly even in his apartment. No one made a move or said a single word without it being recorded by the agents and cops involved.

Joe slowed the boat as they approached a small patch of beach along the waterline. "What'd you think? Want to stop here?"

"Sure," she told her husband as she prepared to drop the anchor.

As the sun continued to climb higher into the sky, they enjoyed their day swimming in the lake, lounging on a blanket on the beach as they fished, and spending their time between not catching anything making out and making love.

Then, as it started to get darker, they packed up and went back to the lake house. Joe took the only catfish they caught to the kitchen and started to prepare it to be cooked while she took a long hot shower. By the time she was done, so was dinner.

"Let's take this out onto the porch," he said as he prepared them two plates while she poured them both a glass of wine. "Bring the bottle."

Alex did just that as she followed him out onto the front porch. The sun was setting low in the sky and she could hear the first burst of fireworks. Looking up, she saw over the trees the flash of blue and red lights as it reflected off the water. Getting up out of her chair, she circled the small table and slid onto Joe's lap.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him, as they watched the firework display over the trees. "How long do you think this undercover job is going to last?" he murmured against her ear before kissing it, making her moan.

Turning to him, she caressed over the slight stubble on his cheek as she answered, "I don't know, I'm thinking only a few months."

Joe frowned slightly but she could see the understanding in his blue eyes. "I was thinking that after this is all over, we can do what we were discussing a few months ago."

It took her a moment for her to remember what that way. Alex stared at her husband as she said, "What, about having a baby?"

"Yeah. We both want kids and it's time, I think."

Closing her eyes, she felt so much love for him right then as she rested her forehead on his. "Okay."

Looking down at him, she saw him smile as he echoed back, "Okay," before devouring her lips with his.

* * *

><p>Bobby opened another beer as he leaned back in the lounge chair and watched as Rebecca and Megan played in the yard. Mickey had hooked up sprinklers to the water hose and they girls were running around, jumping over the water.<p>

Karen placed a bowl of potato chips on the table in front of him as she asked, "You doing okay, Bobby?"

"yeah, fine," he told her as he picked up a chip and started eating. "Wanna beer?"

"I would love one, but I can't."

Bobby stared at her as she sat down and then looked over at Mickey who was fiddling around with his digital video camera. "You're pregnant?"

"I'm praying for a boy this time," Mickey exclaimed as he grinned over at him. "Too much estrogen in this house."

Karen smacked her husband on the arm as she smiled over at him. "So, when are you going to finally settle down, huh?"

Bobby nearly choked on the chip he'd been chewing on, causing Mickey to laugh.

"Are you kidding?" Mickey said to his wife as he downed half his beer to keep from choking to death. "Bobby's not the kind-of guy who settles down."

"He's right," he said as he glanced over at Carolyn who'd remained incrediblily quiet. "it's not for me, you know."

"But you're great with kids," Karen praised as she tried to reason with him.

"A lot of people are great with kids, it doesn't mean that they have to have one of their own," Mickey interjected.

"Would you let him talk," Karen said while gesturing to him. "I'm talking to your brother, Mick, not you."

When she turned back to him, Bobby felt like he wasn't going to win this argument. "Mick's right, I don't want kids."

"How about a wife then?" she said that as she looked to Carolyn.

Carolyn's eyes got real big as she gapped a little. "Uh, I don't want to get married."

Bobby smiled a little as he gestured to Carolyn. "And this is why we're together. We think alike. No married, no kids…"

Karen rolled her eyes at him and went to speak when Rebecca practically jumped into his lap.

"Oh, fu-" he caught himself before he could say the whole cuss word as Rebecca grabbed his hand to pull him out of the chair.

"Dance with me, Uncle Bobby! It's our song!"

Bobby barely understood the excited words that rushed out of her mouth. Rebecca went over to the radio and turned the volume up louder, blaring '_Uptown Girl'_ by Billy Joel all over the neighborhood. Then he understood what she'd been saying.

When Rebecca was Megan's age, before he had to disappear into the undercover life of a mobster, he had spent a lot of time with Mickey and his family. One of the things he liked to do was dance with Rebecca, and their favorite song was the Billy Joel classic.

Every time he heard that song since, he would think of his niece and the life he once had.

Rebecca started dancing, making him laugh a little as he joined in. He could no longer carry her around and put her up on his shoulder, but they could make it work with a lot of hand movements and him kneeling down to her level. Rebecca was very dramatic as she started mimicking the lyrics by acting them out.

As she started to sing the lyrics, he had to joined in.

"Uptown girl, you know I can't afford to buy her pearls, but maybe when my ship comes in, she'll understand what kind-of guy I've been," he sung right along with her as they both pointed to his chest. "And then I'll win. And when she's walking." Rebecca started to walk across the deck like she was in a runway show. He followed right behind, causing all the adults at the table to laugh at his antics. "She's looking so fi-in-ine," they both sung as they wiggled their hips. "And when she's talking," he bent down as Rebecca turned around to face him, "she'll say that she's mi-in-ine. She'll say I'm not so tough," he sung as he flexed his arms, causing her to laugh. "Just because I'm in love with an uptown girl…"

He heard Karen say from the table, "And he says he doesn't want children."

Turning to her, he smiled a little as he picked Carolyn up out of her seat. She yelped and squealed as he carried her in his arms while singing the rest of the song with Rebecca continued to dance and sing around him. "She's been living in her white bread world, as long as anyone with hot blood can, and now she's looking for a downtown man, that's what I am."

Carolyn started laughing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It the most he'd ever seen her laugh and smile. It was infectious.

As the song was abruptly cut off in favor of a commercial, he finally let her back down. Instead of pushing away from him, Carolyn lingered a moment longer as she looked up into his eyes with her hand on his chest, before backing away.

Looking over at Karen, he told his sister-in-law, "I don't want kids."

She just grinned up at him like she'd won the argument and went back to arguing with Mickey over the digital camera. Eying the camera, he asked, "Were you recording that?"

Mickey didn't say anything, but he saw the amusement in his eyes. "What'd you think?"

"Give me the camera," he said as he stepped up to the table.

Mickey started laughing as he got up and ran around it and then disappeared into the house.

"Mickey! You…get back here!"

Both Karen and Carolyn started laughing as he chased his brother through the lower floor of the house, trying to get the camera out of his hands. Finally the girls were the ones to break up the tug-of-war with the camera when Rebecca walked in the kitchen.

"Oh, just let us keep the video, Uncle Bobby. I never get to see you and when I'm missing you, I'll get to watch it."

Bobby stilled with the camera in his hands. He had been trying to figure out how to delete the video, but now, he couldn't do it. Not with those pleading blue eyes staring back at him. Shoving the camera into Mickey's chest, he told him, "No one videos!"

"I promise!" Mick said with an innocent look that held anything but.

He smiled at his niece as he walked by her, back out onto the back deck.

"_Jeremiah was a bullfrog, was a good friend of mine, I never understood a single word he said but I helped him a-drink his wine, and he always had some mighty fine wine, singing…Joy to the world, all the boys and girls, joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you and me…"_

Bobby turned the radio up as the Three Dogs Night song played, filling the yard with the music as he stepped off the porch into the grass. It was starting to get dark and Mickey wanted to get a bonfire going before the sun set.

Rebecca and Megan were running around with their neighborhood friends with sparklers and poppers. The kids were in a battle, girls versus boys as they chased each other around the street throwing the poppers at one another.

As he helped Mickey arranged the bundle of wood and tree branches into a big pile, he heard a car pull up along the side street and then he saw the swirling red and white of the police lights reflecting off the yard and house.

"What the fuck?" Mickey said as he walked past him. Pointing at him, he sternly told him, "Stay put. I'll handle this."

Bobby watched his brother walk up to the two plain clothes cops, most likely detectives, as Carolyn approached him.

She wrapped her arm around his waist as they heard Mickey start to raise his voice. Stepping away, he felt her hold on him tighten. "Maybe you should-"

Bobby pulled her arm away as he glared at her before walking over to see what was going on. As he got closer he could hear Mickey's voice.

"Nothing's going on. And since when is it against the law to have family over on a holiday," Mickey told the detective who was standing dangerously close to him.

"Anything wrong, officer?" Bobby asked as he came up behind his brother. Mickey turned to him and went to hold him off but he was too pissed off to back off.

"I don't know, you tell me," the detective said as he stepped up to him. The guy was about as tall as he was with green eyes and dark brown-reddish hair. "There was a noise complaint."

Bobby smiled at that as he gave a nod. "Noise complaint. That's funny seeing how it's the fourth of July and every house around here's playing music, setting off fireworks…"

"Yeah, well, no one's complaining about them. Just you."

"Just me, huh?" Bobby asked as he glared right back at the guy. "Mickey, turn the radio down."

"The hell I will," Mickey angrily protested. "I've been living here for nearly fifteen years and never once had there been a complaint."

Tearing his eyes away from the cops, he steadied his brother as he told him again, "Please, Mick, just turn it down. I don't know about you, but I want to enjoy the rest of my evening." He faced the cop as he gestured toward the back deck. "Would either of you like something to drink?"

"That a bribe?" the detective coldly asked as they heard the music go down, but barely.

The other detective had yet to say a word and Bobby wondered if he and his partner had argued about this little stunt. Shaking his head, he said, "I was only offering a cold drink on this hot night. Nothing more. And we do have Cokes and Sprite, water…"

"I'll have a water," the other detective finally spoke, causing his partner to glare at him. The man shrugged, saying, "C'mon, Logan, lay off the guy already. He's not doing anything and he offered."

"Mickey," he called over to his brother. "Get this officer a water." Then he looked at the other cop, at Logan while he waited.

Logan never took his suspicious eyes off his until Mickey appeared with a bottle and offered it to the other cop. "Don't think this is the last time we'll meet, Mr. Donovan. I just got transferred to Major Case."

"Congratulations," he sincerely told him. "I'm sure they're getting a real prize with you."

Logan stepped up to him and his partner had to hold him back.

"Let it go, Mike, and come on. I'm ready to go home, and it's a long ferry ride back to the city."

Bobby smiled slightly as he told them both, "Happy Independence Day."

That caused Logan to smirk as he told him, "Enjoy your freedom, while it lasts," before he walked away, back to his car and got in.

"What a prick."

Bobby chuckled as he turned toward Mickey and gave him a shove. "Hey, for a prick he's probably a good cop."

"He only showed up because of you."

"Yeah," Bobby said as they headed back over to the bonfire. "Which makes me wonder who told the cops I was here."

Mickey only looked over at him with a look of concern as they set the wood on fire.

Carolyn had laid a blanket out in the yard and he found her laying on her back staring at the darkening sky. He laid down with her and looked up at the sky just as the first firework lit it up.

The sky was suddenly booming with various firework displays. It seemed like each house had there own show, and the more he watched the colors lighting up the night sky the more he realized that they were trying to out do one another. Because all the neighbors were trying to one up the other, it became the best damn fireworks display he ever saw. It seemed like it went on for hours.

He felt someone watching him and when he turned his head, Carolyn was roaming her eyes over his face. "What?"

She smiled slightly before turning back to the watch the fireworks. "Nothing."

Now he was watching her and knew that it was more than just nothing.

He hugged and kissed everyone 'bye', even Mickey, before he lead Carolyn back to his car. He opened the passenger door for her before going around to get in.

The drive back to Brooklyn was quiet as they were both lost in thought. From the view from the bridge, they could see various fireworks displays still going off in the borough, lighting up the East River and the bay. He didn't think anywhere else on earth could capture the feeling of Independence Day quite like New York, well, except for maybe Boston. There was so much history there from Ellis Island to the Statue of Liberty, the five boroughs where immigrants from all over the world migrated for a chance at the American dream.

"You know, my father's father, he uh, he immigrated over here from Russia during the 20's. They settled in Brooklyn…Brighten Beach, and he uh, he opened a club right there."

"Oh, yeah?"

Bobby gave a nod as he shifted gears as he came upon the exit. "My mother's family, they came here in, uh…the early 1900's, from Italy…the Liguria region. Her father was a fisherman, her brother followed in his footsteps after he returned home from serving in the Army during World War II. Robert, that was her brother's name, who I was named after, he, uh, he moved to Canarsie because of the new housing going up there for war vets, and because of the job opportunities. Anyway, my mother followed him there and during the summer she would go to Brighten Beach."

"And that's where she met your father."

He smiled over at her as he said, "Yeah. Catholic Italian girl, Jewish Russian guy…they would have never met if their families hadn't had wanted a part of this, wanted something better for themselves, their families. When I was in the Army, I took leave and went to Liguria, to Genoa the capital. I thought it was paradise on earth. Beautiful, right on the Ligurian Sea, the coastline stretched on for miles. A perfect, crystal clear, sky blue ocean that I could see straight to the bottom."

"Sounds wonderful."

"It was, but it also made me think about all the reasons why my grandparents risked their lives to come to New York. They left paradise to come here…Hundreds, thousands, died crossing the Atlantic. I understand getting the hell out of the Soviet Union, but Italy? Even though I loved it there, I started to miss home, you know. This is where I belong, where my heart is," he told her as he drove around the neighborhood streets, heading toward her apartment building. "There is no place on earth I'd rather be."

Carolyn was quiet for a moment before looking over at him as he parallel parked in front of her building. "Is that why you turned down the bureau's offer to get out?"

Bobby parked the car and turned off the ignition as he thought about how to answer that. Finally, he just told the truth. "Yeah, it was one of the reasons. I don't want to go anywhere. I was born here, and I'm going to die here, God willing, it won't be until I'm a very old man."

"Karen got on your nerves this afternoon about having kids. She always do that?"

He started laughing as he leaned back in the seat. "Every time I see her, she asks if I'm married yet, or have a kid. Can you imagine me as a father? This is not the life to be trying to raise a kid up in."

"You don't want anyone to carry on your legacy?"

"Some legacy," he muttered as he closed his eyes, feeling the pain in his head throb harder. "And despite what anyone says, I'll make a horrible father. What good of a father would I be if I'm never home?" he asked as he looked over at her. At seeing the sympathy in her eyes, he knew that she understood. Of course she did, she was working the same job as him. "I don't want to wake up one day, and my kid's an adult, and they say to me, 'Where were dad? Where were you during my First Communion? For all my birthdays? All the Christmases? Why in the hell was your job more important to you than me?' I can't deal with that. The guilt of knowing that I would be nothing but a failure, a regret, in the eyes of my child…" he sighed heavily as he shook his head. "So, why put myself through the misery? I've already got enough burdens to deal with anyway."

They were silent for a moment and then he apologized, "I didn't mean to…I'm sorry if-"

"Don't be, I understand completely. It's one of the reasons why I'm not a mother, and never going to be one. My job wasn't designed for people who want families." Carolyn turned to him and he saw her eyes soften. "I really enjoyed today. It was the best fourth of July I've had in a long time."

Bobby smiled softly as he told her, "Me too. I'll walk you in." She went to protest but he was already out of the car and rounding the front before she could say much of anything. He opened the door for her and held out his hand.

She looked slightly irritated by took his hand let him help her out of the car.

"Thank you," he told her as he opened the door to the building for her, letting her walk in first.

"For what?" she asked as she waited for him to come in.

Bobby placed his hand on her waist as he told her, "For letting me be a gentleman, and getting the door for you. It really irritates me when a woman cuts me off and won't let me treat her like a woman should be treated. I saw that you wanted to say something to me about it, but you didn't. So…thank you," he told her as he stared down into her dark, wondering eyes.

Before she could move away, Bobby made up his mind and risked getting his ass kicked as he leaned down and kissed her. It was soft, light, and quick, but it felt so good and so right. His hand lingered on her hip as he stepped away and pushed the door open.

"See you tomorrow, Carolyn."

She barely nodded as he smiled a little and finally dropped his hand from her waist as he left.

TBC…


End file.
